You're Listening To
by Sage94
Summary: Meryl was apart of a radio station competing with Radio Rock. After a first encounter with the notorious Pirates, adventure ensues. Please Review! rated T for now...
1. Radio Rock

Chapter 1: Radio Rock

I took a drag from the cigarette dangling on my mouth and pulled it away to blow smoke into the air, letting it snake around my set.

"And that was the exuberant sounds from the Who. Next up we have the Kinks, don't turn that dial." I let my voice trail off and turned off my mike and leaned back in my lovely swivel chair to face the glass. "What?" I asked through the glass. It was the captain, so to speak, standing on the other side and she was always keeping an eye out on our ship.

"Meh, do you always have to smoke while you broadcast? You're gonna blacken your lungs with that crap." Her voice was muffled, but I could hear her well enough.

"You chew it, so I don't see the problem." I said loud enough for her to hear me through the glass. The woman, Jackie, spit the tobacco classily into the nearest trashcan and said, "I'm quitting."

I snorted and went back to shuffling through the music I picked for the next hour. Lacy was on after me.

After my last hour was up, I handed off to my co-worker, but sat back to watch her nonetheless. I liked how she upped the ante with her bouncing-off-the-walls personality.

"Thank you Meryl, and welcome, Britain, to Lacy's two hours of nonstop excitement!" Her wording was funny, but that was likely because I wouldn't do anything like her. Lacy's voice was bright and ecstatic, probably a hundred times livelier than me.

I got up to leave, giving Lacy the thumbs up before heading to the kitchen.

"Hello, Rochelle, what's for dinner tonight?" I asked, yawning. Rochelle was our petite cook, who could cook a mean steak.

"We've got chicken salad." She said in her cockney accent.

"Again? That's the third time this week." I muttered.

"I can't just let you all get fat. You can't exactly run a mile on this ship."

I sat at the four-seater dining table and regrettably munched on the vegetables that Rochelle had placed for snack.

After I had almost enough, I stood with forcefulness. "Fuck this, I'm finding Thelma." Thelma, I guess it was unfair to call her fat, since the rest of us weren't fat, but weren't muscled from exercise either, so its that nonsense of the pot calling the kettle black; she just happened to have the worst metabolism, and a soft spot for chocolate. Which was why I was finding her.

Without knocking on her cabin door, I barged in on her reading a magazine while painting her nails red. She really wasn't fat, she just had a more voluptuous form.

"Alright, where's the stash?" Without looking up, she nodded her head to the top bunk. Under the pillows. I grabbed the large chest nestling there in all its glory, and picked a nice Mars bar.

"You lot will be helping me replace the candy bar collection the next time we make port." She asserted, and kept to her business.

I suppose we should explain ourselves. We are Pop Wave. Yes, yes, you might say we're a knock-off Radio Rock, but you might find yourselves with a crew full of angry women, waiting to prove that they weren't dainty women.

There was Lacy, Rochelle, Jackie, Gertrude, Kelly, Molly, Frankie, Justice, Harper, and of course, me. All of us held a shift at Pop Wave, except Jackie and Rochelle, who were the captain and the cook. My shift being the late afternoon to evening shift, and then sometimes filling in at one in the morning if one of the others were too smashed. Lacy preferred the upbeat pop songs, mostly the up to date on catchy pop. Jackie kept track of ratings. Gertrude was an old soul, and played a lot of fifties and earlier tunes. Kelly liked to keep it strictly R&B soulful with the temptations and Chuck Berry. Molly had an odd attachment to Elvis. Frankie liked a little country. Justice held female singers in her high-books, so please don't preach her about the power of women. Harper liked to dick around with music from every era. And me? Well you could say if rock had a human body, well… don't let me catch it. Stones, Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Animals, fuck. Yeah, once the girls found out rock and roll was my thing, they welcomed me aboard.

Instantaneously, I can recall first and foremost our conversations were about music. Then they digressed when we realized we didn't know much about each other. And so we were friends.

We lived on a boat in the northern sea. Right, well Rock Wave did once broadcast from a studio, but once the government caught wind of the girls in the crew at the time, that ship set sail. Pardon that terrible pun.

I used to go to a private school. Then to a public school. Then my marks were so low, my parents could hardly stand to see me lurking around the house. I was a smoker, probably somewhere along the lines I used drugs (I say probably because those memories seem to blur), I drank a little. Oh, and I once told the headmistress she'd probably get laid more often if she trimmed the box once in a while. Down _there_. Almost needless to say, I was kicked out. I heard about a job opening as a DJ here at Pop Wave, and only made the cut because I said I would work for minimum and lied and said I was eighteen. Having hips ahead of my peers, I suppose, got me on this boat. I'm seventeen, turning eighteen this summer.

I accidentally let slip once earlier this week that I was only seventeen, and Jackie almost flipped her shit, but everyone convinced her I only had a bit to go. Plus I was holding my own for ratings.

The next day, after my shift, it was a rainy Friday, and Jackie had us all gathered around for our biweekly ratings.

She handed us all a chart, and I looked at mine, inhaling the smoke from my cigarette. My jaw instantly dropped, just as my ratings.

"What the fuck is this?" I murmured, but knew it was loud for all to hear.

The girls shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Everyone's ratings had gone just a touch down, save for my eyesore of a graph.

"Don't take it personally, Meryl, it's that station, Radio Rock, that's actually caused a drop in all our standings," Jackie said sceptically.

"We need to do something about this." Justice said. Huh, ironic.

"Well, I contacted our advertisers on land, and they said for extra mentioning they put up a few more flyers." Jackie said pathetically.

"You're joking right? A few flyers wouldn't be able to get us back up there." Lacy said, and put her arm around me supportively. I snuffed out my fag and adjusted my sunglasses from my forehead to their respective place on my face.

"I also contacted Quentin, from Radio Rock." Jackie said quickly.

"And?" Molly asked, saying what we were all thinking.

"He's not taken kindly." She chuckled pensively.

"Well fuck me, I thought they'd graciously step down." I said sarcastically. Though I could tell any other time I'd get a nice chuckle in response, the air was far too tense for that kind of behaviour.

There was a silence, and everyone sort of left the circle silently.

"Everyone prepare to make port tomorrow. We'll raise some hell next week." Jackie said loudly, trying to pump everyone back up.

The following morning, when I was still grumpy, we made port. All day, at port taped shows we made would play. I was first off the boat, eager to do something to make me forget about my bad ratings. I'd find a bar, but what I really needed was to find a record shop. But before I could go my own way for a while, Jackie called us all on the dock.

"Everyone, don't get too smashed because the advertising companies want to meet with us later and discuss new techniques."

"Why do they want to see us? Isn't that part of your job?"

"Well they feel that they want to know _who_ they're dealing with." She said, and when no one objected, "Everyone back at the dock by four, I'm driving you to the place, then we'll have supper."

With my pay check, I went walking with Molly and Justice, who were both in their mid-twenties, around the stores close to the ship along the boardwalk to look at some new records and releases.

"Kid, don't let those ratings get you down. Your show is great." Molly said supportively from an aisle away in the oldies but goodies section.

"Yeah, you can't exactly help it, Radio Rock is one hell of a show." Justice said, holding up a Janice Joplin single. I know Justice was very frank most of the time, but she was also quite clever. And she would have a good feeling if I were offended. I huffed and swallowed a bit of pride and continued scanning through for some new Beatles.

Molly was a year younger than Justice, but they were both equally bombshells. She had shaggy boy short hair and killer curves, and wore miniskirts and band t-shirts to show them off. Justice was more of a jeans girl and was taller with a more willowy frame, and usually wore an oversized t-shirt.

"Listen girls, I'm just going to head to the ship," I said, grabbing my purchases, which were hardly fitting where I was carrying them under my arm.

"Take care, Meryl." They said. I could tell they were shooting sympathetic looks after me, and I had to keep telling myself that my crew cared about me.

I was scuffing my oxfords the whole way down to the dock, kind of brightening at the thought of having the whole boat alone to myself. Even our cook would be out, so no one would be there to reprimand me in their motherly fashion.

I heard clanging, even from down on the dock. Maybe Jackie was back doing some cleaning or some other nonsense. I climbed up into the boat and called out, "Jackie?"

There was no answer, but the clamouring did not cease. I went below deck and almost screamed at the mess. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Shit!" a few of the masked men voiced.

"Someone get Mark!" one of them shouted. Scattered amongst our ship were men, filing through our records and slashing them.

"You don't need this Mark fellow. All of you need to get the hell out of here before I… do something drastic." I can honestly say I got nothing.

"Right. Someone get some duct tape." A rather podgy man said, and three or four out of the twelve gathered around me.

"No, don't touch me." I snapped.

The one who had reached retracted his hand and said, "Sorry miss."

"No, Simon, hold her in place while we put her in the chair." The same podgy character said.

"Right, sorry." He sat me down, and I rolled my eyes and figured these fools were completely harmless.

"I will scream, you idiots, and someone will come." I said blandly. They had procured the tape and were wrapping me to the chair.

"Oh I'm not so sure about that. You see, your crew seem to be held up at a—what did we call it? Advertising meeting? Yes, that. They'll have to meet there, get stood up, and have to come all the way back here and find you tied up and us on our way back out to sea." An American man said. He was hardly disguised, and made distinguishing who these poorly disguised men were. I wondered how angry Jackie would be with me, for hardly giving a fight? After all I cared about this ship as much as anyone of the other girls, but she would be pissed if she knew I let them tie me up.

"I thought I'd recognized you lot. Fucking Radio Rock is standing on my ship."

"So the missus is a fan."

"Regrettably." I said, trying to stare them all down at once.

"Oi, who's the bird?" A man asked. If I were standing, I would have fallen back into the seat I was sitting in. It was Gavin Kavanagh.

"Vandals don't do this! Get the hell off my ship!"

"Don't make us sick Mark on you." From the antic voice, I could tell it was that oddball Angus. Or was it the 'nut'?

From the legends I've heard about Mark, the damage is lasting. "Please, I'd much rather have the doctor." I exhale noisily, making a point to sound bored.

"And point one goes to Dave!" An excited voice came from a man behind me. Of course, it was Doctor Dave.

"You boys _are_ a rather unusual bunch. Though I can't say I'm surprised." I made contempt clear in my voice.

"Someone shut the little bugger up." Gavin said, clearly offended by my earlier statement.

"Just stay the fuck away from my set." As soon as the words left my mouth I snapped it shut and leaned my head back in frustration.

"Someone find her set and bring her effects." Gavin said.

I tried not to cringe when they broke my headphones in half, which I had personalized. I tried not to cringe when the Count horked in my mike muffler. But I was thrashing in my seat when they pulled out the singles.

"The missus is a little feisty." Someone commented, I was to angry to notice who.

"So who are you anyways?" They must have taken a wild guess with the set.

"The box says property of Meryl. You're Meryl?"

"So what?" I asked.

"Well, we have to say you live up to your voice."

At his words, I recoiled into my seat, but I nodded my head, "I'm flattered, and I wish I could say the same." I cracked.

"Alright get the tape." Gavin said, annoyed. He personally placed piece of tape over my mouth, and I sighed. "She's kind of adorable when her mouth is shut." He's lucky the tape is on.

"Which is just how we're going to leave your station. Quiet." The Count said.

I sat for a couple more minutes while they all grouped together, and cheered for staying true to their word of obliterating our station.

"I hope to never see your face again." Gavin said, tipping his feathered hat.

I stuck out my foot, catching him in between the legs, but cursed in my head as I only got the inner thigh.

He fell back into a few of his mates and flipped me off.

"Let's just leave, Gav, don't bother." Simon said. I had to smile at their ridiculous painted faces once more before I saw them leave.

Minutes passed.

I moved my upper body so that the tape bunched around my shoulders. This couldn't be any easier to get out of. The tape became slack enough for me to lift it over my head. Idiots.

I left the ship running, and jumped over the rail and landed hard on the dock. I cursed as I saw their ship already heading out of the port. I could see a few jump in their knickers as I made my appearance, but I could still hear faint laughter.

All I could do was wait around until my colleagues showed up filing out of the van.

I saw their jaws drop at the sight of the boat, which I thought was odd, since the damage was inside. I turned to see the side of it had spray painted on it "Fuck Pop". Oh. That's what they were looking at.

"Meryl, what the hell!" Jackie shouted. I shrank back.

I heard a nasty creak come from behind, making me shrink even further than I though possible. The ship must have sunk slowly about half its height, before a 'thunk' could be heard. Crap. The girls' faces ranged from surprise to anger.

The next day after we were put up in a hotel thanks to Jackie, we were all down at the dock. We got some police divers to help get some salvaged stuff. We told them mainly to grab the records, since everything else would be damaged beyond repair. I still hadn't quite told them that Radio Rock had wrecked most of their things anyways.

So when the divers pulled up box after box of records, I waited behind them, trying to be the least out of the way as possible. Despite that effort, Molly came to stand beside me.

"You should read this." She stated, handing me a paper, and crossed her arms, waiting to also get at the records.

"_Sorry we couldn't make the meeting, better luck next time girls," _I glanced further down the page, "_Just kidding, it's just us, your friends from Radio Rock, Ha ha._"

"Wait, there's more." Molly added.

I turned the page over, "_Ha ha._" The letter was written poorly, with chicken scratch as an excuse for penmanship. "Right, well, maybe taking a look at the records isn't such a good idea…"

**I guess i'll give a better description of her next chapter for those of you who need a better visual.**


	2. Business Purposes

**Disclaimer, I guess: I don't own anything having to do with TBTR… sadface. Also, fair warning about foul language lol**

Chapter 2: Business Purposes

All the girls gave me hell. I didn't have the heart to tell them that my box of records was unharmed, since I hid mine in my room, and told a diver to grab those ones. We stood sulking in the cool breeze, still clueless of what to do now.

"Excuse me ladies," A voice said.

"Twat." I heard Rochelle say. I sniggered at that. I turned around and there was a man in a nice suit.

"Yes?" Jackie said, coming to stand in front of the rest of us, to probably make it seem less like we were sizing him up. I have to admit we are a pretty intimidating crew. Not one of us is unfortunate looking.

"I'm assuming you _ladies_ were the owners of the boat."

"I was the captain," Jackie said boldly, "and who are you?" She crossed her arms smartly, and squared her stance.

"I'm here on behalf of the Minister Dormandy. Are those divers police officers?" He asked, trying to look past our body of people.

"Yes…" She shooed us all out of the way and led the oddball to the edge of the dock.

"Right, men!" he called behind himself and a few other officers came to his side, which had previously been helping us. "Would you care to explain to me why you're helping these criminals?"

"We were doing our civic duty sir. They've done nothing wrong."

"That's not the point. They're docked in London, so therefore they're breaking laws in London."

"Actually, we're currently off air." I piped in. He whipped his head around to see who had spoken, but gave up searching through our faces.

"Right, and we shall keep it that way." He said anyways. "Call the divers up."

"We have to wait for them to resurface, sir." An officer said.

The man huffed, and tapped his foot. When the three divers resurfaced with another load of our things, I went to help them by taking the boxes of stuff in their arms and handing it off to several of the other girls.

"You, girl, stop moving those boxes. They're hereby property of the government."

"Sir, don't you need a warrant?" I asked nonchalantly, and bent down to pick up my box of music, which appeared safe and sound. He flared his nostrils. "What did you say your name was, sir?" I asked again.

"I told you, his name was Twatt." Rochelle said, stepping by my side.

"Rochelle?" This Twatt fellow said, leaning in. "It's been awhile." He seemed extra pleased to see her, I noticed as I stood beside them.

Rochelle was a bit repulsed by him; any girl could see it. "I see you're still twatty Twatt from school." Everyone was still giggling.

He didn't seem to notice, or had gotten used to being made fun of in school. "You shouldn't be affiliating yourself with these people and with this life. Its against the law." I saw him shoot a disgusted look at us. He then turned to Jackie, his manner still disgusted, "So whose lovely work is this?"

"Ah, that would be Radio Rock." She gazed out at sea, where long before the girls showed up, I watched them as they headed back out.

"I can't say I'm sorry for you," he continued a bit more quietly, "however this does give me something to bring back to the Minister." He probably thought he was mumbling to himself, but he was speaking quite clearly.

I opened my box full of records, and my eyes lit up in delight, as I realized it was left untouched, other than a bit of water damage to the bottom of the cases. I didn't notice how watertight this box would be before, but it certainly came in handy when a rogue crew came and ravaged your boat, wrecked your stuff and sank your boat. I chose not to tell the others that my box was safe and sound. I'd probably get chewed out.

For the next couple of weeks, we all sort of went our separate ways. And regrettably, the only thing I could listen to was Radio Rock. Sunshine Radio, are you kidding? Anyways, I was sitting at home, at my father's house, since my parents were separated, and my mother was less agreeable about my leaving school.

"Hey Dad." I said out loud. "How's mum?" I was lying on the couch, while he was in the kitchen talking to his maid. She did everything for him. I can't say he'd be a very good cook. Or cleaner. Or anything for that matter, other than being very charming to his buyers.

"She's been asking about you." My dad was a real estate agent. He actually sold his own house that he owned with my mother, and helped her buy a new house, along with a new one of his own. I thought they were a little childish, despite them telling me. I couldn't argue that I wasn't childish, frankly because, well, look at the state of me.

"Yeah? Has she found a school that will take me?" I asked bemusedly.

"I told her good luck with that months ago. Actually, no, she found out about your career taking an abrupt halt."

"I'm on temporary leave."

"Right. Anyways, she's trying to get you a job. She sent me this." He held in his hands a flyer. At first I wasn't interested, because I wasn't much up for applying to stuff in the paper, but something on the page caught my eye, a few articles under the few red pen circled job opportunities, in bold print letters read _**Radio Rock**_.

Before I'd _met_ those lads, I'd never had a qualm, maybe a slight sense of competition. Of course ever since the event a couple weeks ago, I've had this odd obsession with them. As previously mentioned, I even listen to them.

On the newsletter, it stated a competition. You've got to be fucking kidding me. So of course it had something to do with applying to their radio station. The stakes were surprisingly simple. You had to listen for a bell that rang twice a day from seven til eight, and then state all the songs in the playlist until the second bell rang at the end of the week. And when the week was out, you had to send in your playlist with name and contact. I glanced at the start date, which was tomorrow, the Monday.

"Dad, I'm going for a ride, where are the keys?"

"On the mantle, and for god's sake don't smoke inside the car; wait until you reach your destination. I've still got that new car smell."

"Bye." I was already running out the door.

By the time the week was over, I had paid special attention to every show, listening to the bells every day. For some of the songs, I had to ask my dad what it was, since they were from a little farther back than my knowledge supplied. Since Jackie was still out looking for another boat to house us, she just gave me the contact information to help my plan instead. Only my two girlfriends Justice and Molly would accompany me, since the others either wouldn't listen to a sentence containing Radio Rock, or were attempting to find other jobs.

I copied my list out twice and gave it to them to mail it to Radio Rock, so we could all go together.

Oh, right, my plan. Well I guess you could say that's why some of the other girls were sceptical about joining in. You see, I didn't have a good one. Okay, I didn't have much of one at all. Originally I was thinking whatever would incapacitate Radio Rock whilst I was on it, I would try and accomplish.

But as we sat here on the ferry with 197 other contest winners, I wasn't so sure what I was thinking. I went to the loo, steeping around numerous girls who were checking with each other to see if their make up looked good, and if their clothes were tight enough. When I got out, I momentarily forgot my sea legs, and stumbled into someone.

"Sorry." I grumbled, and picked myself up, conscious of my leather trousers being dirty.

"My bad." I looked up. How the hell did Twatt get on the boat? I suppose it must have something to do with the lack of creativity in the competition that made it so a monkey could win it, or at least all these pathetic-looking young women and Twatt. I probably could have been grouped in with them by looks.

His eyes seemed to feel my oncoming question as he recognized where I came from too, "Business purposes."

"You know, I think I like you, Twatt." I said. I knew he was here to try and shut down Radio Rock, or at least trying to. I'll stick to his side for the time being. I told Justice to keep Molly from ogling (she was a tad ditzy, only if the boy knew where to look) and keep tabs around the boat, and we would meet back up on deck at the end of the tour.

The boat came into view on the horizon. It shouldn't take us longer than forty minutes to reach the bastards.

Finally after a long wait, of me bouncing in my shoes, and gripping my sweater closer around me, we were boarding the famous Radio Rock. As I climbed on deck, I saw the figure of their manager dude.

Everyone was on deck talking, screaming, and my ears were deafened, because they've been screaming every since we were almost a mile away.

A man standing on the upper deck addressed the crowd energetically, "Ladies and gentlemen welcome to our boat of bliss!"

The fans, if possible, became louder, and even girlier than before. My masculinity was compromised. That was a joke.

Twatt probably didn't want me following him around for all the snooping he was doing, so I kept him in the corner of my eye for most of the tour. He always eyed everything suspiciously. Like the cookies they just baked in the kitchen were illegal. I watched in horror as they tackled the cook to the floor with love and adoration. I'm sure they must have envied the only woman on board.

Those two fellows, Simon and Angus backed away from the screaming women and over towards me. I pulled up my hood, and shrunk behind—well Twatt is gone. How did he disappear? So I was momentarily by myself.

"How are you enjoying the tour?" Angus said, putting his arm around me. You could tell he was trying to be really smooth about it.

"Er, great." I said. I had to get away fast. I pulled my sweater tighter around me and unwound myself from his arm and went my own way.

"Wait, you can't leave the tour."

"We're on a boat, you nut." I heard Simon say as I retreated. I managed to leave without them making a huge fuss over it.

The corridor I was in was empty, but you could hear the faint laughter in the background. I slipped my sunglasses, just in case someone recognized me. I made my way quietly, listening for Twatt.

The slapping of men's shoes could be heard on the metal floors and quickly went outside. On deck, I caught a glimpse of him going through a door, which I swiftly followed suite.

Down a few sets of stairs, I came upon an open door.

**NO ENTRY,** it said. Yeah, right. I pushed through, thinking that Twatt was actually pretty smart for a ministry nimrod.

I tiptoed down the steps, and came up beside him. "Hey." I whispered.

"Jesus!" He jumped almost a foot into the air. "Girl, you shouldn't be down here."

"Relax, we're both here for similar reasons." I said. But I gave him his space anyways. He was observing the conditions of their pipes and engine and whatnot, so I sat back in the corner, still keeping ol Twatty in view.

I heard footsteps from the stairs on the other side of the room, so I hid behind a boiler. I couldn't exactly warn the man without giving away my position.

"Hello." My senses spiked and I tried my best not to breathe, but every little movement I made sounded amplified. "Can I help you?" I peeked around the boiler and was glad he wasn't talking to me. A stylish man was talking to Twatt.

"Oh yes, uh, hello." I almost face palmed, because Twatt sounded like a huge pushover. "Got a bit lost." Even better response.

"More than a bit. In order to get here, you have to open a really quite heavy door with the words _no entry_ on it."

"Well I didn't see that so it must have been left open." Kudos to that _clever_ response.

The man approached Twatt, and eyed him through his glasses. "You look suspiciously square to be a fan of this boat's output."

"No, no. No I'm a real fan."

"I hope so, because if word gets out that you're here to spy on us, I think you may have trouble hanging onto your testicles."

"Are you threatening me?" Fucking Twatt.

There was a short pause. "Do you know what? I think I am. Because I've got pretty good instincts, and you look like a twat to me." I had to hold back a laugh that could have blown a hole in the side of the ship.

"Get out of here!" I heard Twatt start to leave. "Everyone leaves in fifteen minutes!" He yelled again.

I watched as they left, and when I heard the door shut behind the other man, I came out of my spot. In my excitement, I slipped, falling under something. In the last seconds, I felt my head smack against the metal, causing me to black out.

This does put a damper on things…

**Review Please!**

**The next update probably wont be until after my exams which end next Monday (hooray, right?) but I'll probably end up updating earlier anyways lol…**

**-sage94**


	3. Sweet Caroline

Chapter 3: Sweet Caroline

When I woke up, my ears were ringing and I felt like throwing up.

I found the source of my waking digging around in behind some pipes. "Come to Daddy." Its voice rasped pleasantly. It reminded me of something I'd heard before…

I cracked open my eyes, realizing my sunglasses were still on, and saw a hunched over figure in a purple suit. He swirled around and was about to leave. And through my blurred vision, I could see it swig a bottle of most likely alcohol. I could use some.

I decided to make my presence known. I gurgled something incomprehensible, and the footfalls stopped.

Whoever it was—I finally decided it was a person—stopped just short of me and squatted down and observed me. "Mark, Mark, Mark."

"Who?" I asked. My voice sounded disastrous.

"He's better than I thought."

I tried to pick myself up, but I wasn't strong enough.

"How did you get down here, sweetheart?" his voice rasped. My memory jogged for a while; who was this?

"I fell." I said simply, not feeling like getting into details. I remembered falling after trying to get out of here, and a lot before that about trying to sabotage… Radio Rock. Ah hell. This was Gavin bloody Kavanagh. "Well help me up." I said suddenly. While I was thinking he was giving me the once over one too many times.

He placed his hands under me, one under my head, and the other dangerously close to my butt. His hand under my head recoiled and my head dropped to the floor, and I gasped at the pain.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, feeling the back of my head. It was warm and wet. Oh. I looked up into his eyes, then his hands, which had a bit of blood on them.

"Sorry dear." He then picked me up bridal style, and carried me upstairs.

"There's no need, I can walk to the boat."

"Luv, the ferry left a long time ago." We exited the little area we were in, and went on deck. It was a little cold, and it was only drizzling a little bit. And it was definitely not daytime.

"Oh," was all I said.

"Let's get Felicity to have a look at ya." He propped open a door with his foot to where the rest of the cabins and kitchen were.

"Hello, hello everyone. I found one of Mark's doings. Made her forget how she got here." He introduced me to a room full of men who were either playing pool, smoking or drinking. I sighed, realizing earlier he was referring to the famous Midnight Mark. Ah crap, now I look like a whore. Kavanagh set me down on a couch, shooing a few people out of the way in the process. I knew this would go terribly wrong in so many ways. " I'm only kidding, the bird hit her head. Found her by the engine. Felicity."

The only woman approached me, Felicity, with a wet cloth and a package of ice.

Felicity was quiet, and I could barely hear her tell me to lie on my back because I was drifting in and out of sleep. She carefully dabbed at the back of my head.

"What's your name deary?" She said quietly, so no one else could hear. I could hear the focus in her voice.

"Caroline." I said a bit louder than I intended. I took my mother's name. Even though she bothered the hell out of me.

"Well Caroline, your scalp will be just fine. It's got all this lovely hair covering it. Not sure about the bump surrounding it though."

"Er, thanks." I said, not sure how to respond. I felt it, and felt a wave of nausea sweep over me.

"So what are we going to do with you, Caroline?" Gavin asked loudly. He stared around the room, opening this up for discussion. Just send me home, this is embarrassing enough. No more revelations need to be brought to light. However chatter immediately erupted, and I heard some things I'd rather have waited to hear until I was thirty or something. Don't get me wrong, they were positive, but uh...

"I vote she stays until she's better." Gavin said. I wish he hadn't said a word.

Concurrences were heard all around and I sunk my face into the couch cushions.

Babbling ceased, and boots could be heard echoing in the hall.

"Shut up, its Quentin." Someone yelled, in some god-awful American accent. My head was pounding worse than a hangover.

A door opened and the same man from whenever earlier waltzed in.

"What's going on? I heard happiness." The man, Quentin said.

"You did." Someone said.

"What brings this foreign emotion onto my crew?"

"Gavin found a girl on board."

"And the actual girls aren't supposed to come until next weekend. He cheated." That had to be _Dr._ Dave. I think. Their radio voices were different.

"Where was she found?" He directed his question at Gavin, but he was looking at me suspiciously. Heck, I would look at me suspiciously. I was still wearing my glasses.

"Engine room."

There was a long pause.

"She stays in my room." I heard a lot of disappointment. "She's off-limits until she regains some of her senses."

Quentin led me to his room, where I plopped onto the bed, clutching my ice pack to my head.

"I'd lock the door if I were you." He pulled out a cigarette and offered me one. I waved it off; odd of me to do.

"Where are _you_ staying?" I asked groggily.

"With one of the crew."

"Do you have a bucket or something?" I asked suddenly, as Quentin was about to leave.

"I have a rubbish bin, beside the night stand." He said warily, already leaning out the door.

"Good." I muttered, and lunged for it, emptying my stomach into the poor little bin.

"I reckon you have a concussion."

I leaned away from the edge of the bin, to look at him lazily. "Maybe."

He chuckled, but exited the room.

I threw up one last time before lying down on his bed.

I didn't dream the last night, which always frustrated me. I woke up again with an ache on my head, but it was milder. I stood, and felt around at the back of my head, which was still tender. Everything was still a little hazy surrounding last night.

I pried off my sunglasses, which I could feel had left little imprints on my face, especially on the bridge of my nose. I heard the knob turn on the door, and I shoved my sunglasses back on.

"Hello, luv. Just came to see how sleeping beauty was doing." Gavin poked his head in. His shaggy head was adorned with his sunglasses and a fedora.

I ignored that odd greeting, "What time is it?" I asked.

"Nearly eleven." I nodded, but he didn't leave. "I can bring you a change of clothes if you like."

"That would be great." I said sitting back on the bed. It was way too bright in here. I wondered what he would bring me as clothing; maybe something of that woman Felicity's.

I cocked an eyebrow, expecting him to be on his way. He smirked, and left the room. I shut the door behind him, and walked around the cramped room. It was mostly filled with clothes, which littered the floor. Nice suits and shirts. I found a full-length mirror, and checked my horrid reflection. My hair, which I didn't normally brush, was a rat's nest. My clothes, which were used to their normal wrinkle, were fine. I couldn't complain there.

I finger combed my hair, failing at trying to be careful with the back of my head. Sometimes with my hair I had to use force. People said it seemed to look okay though.

Finally, all the knots were out, and my hair was as good as new. Except, I'd probably need a good shower in the near future.

The door was opened by the true-to-his-word Gavin. He held clothes in his arms, and set them on the bed.

"I guessed your size."

"Guessed my size?" I wasn't offended. But I looked at the clothes and wondered how he had procured them. "Can you let me change then?" I asked awkwardly.

"Sure." He didn't move.

"I'm not sure you know you're supposed to exit the room, or at the very least turn around." I commented, and eyed him warily.

"The very least, for sweet Caroline." He pivoted, only to face the wall behind him.

"You're ridiculous." I said as I pulled my old shirt off.

"_You're_ _ridic_—" He didn't finish his retort, as he peeked over his shoulder.

"No peeking." I snapped. I quickly pulled on a shirt.

He didn't answer to that. I finished pulling on some clothes that I had to laugh at.

"I look like I'm thirty or something." I said, looking at myself in the mirror. Not that I meant the outfit any disrespect by exaggerating the age of it, because it still looked decently aged, but _I_ felt older in it: the loose green pants clung kind of low on my hips for my taste, then my shirt was short with black and white stripes. And the lower cut was probably meant for a push up bra. Classy. "Well, not thirty per say."

"Shall we do lunch then?" He offered, clearly not worried about the outfit.

I figured I might as well go thank Felicity for usage of her wardrobe. "Sure."

"Aren't you going to take off your glasses sometime?" He tried sounding casual about wanting to see my face.

"I tried, but the light is too bright. Concussion, remember?" He nodded. "And what about yours?"

"I've had them glued to my face."

It wasn't that funny but I let him think I thought it was by laughing, and we continued onto the lounge area.

"She's awake, everybody." He shouted once we'd arrived. I cringed at the loud noise. I strode awkwardly across the room towards Felicity.

"Thanks for the clothes, Felicity." I murmured to her and sat in a swivel chair beside her.

"Oh those don't belong to me, Caroline." She said shyly.

"Whose clothes are these?" I asked aloud.

"Who knows?" A voice said. I turned and saw that Dave had spoken.

"What?" I asked.

"Well, I'd say those are from Gavin's pile. Or was it you, Mark?" Dave said.

Among the others I saw Midnight Mark, who shrugged. Oh crap. I finally realized I was wearing some other chick's clothes that probably got laid on this boat. "Ew." I said out loud before I could stop myself.

I was not pleased to receive the laughter that came next.

"The look on your face was priceless." Dave said, slapping my bum. I jumped away, with an involuntary short squeal. "So Caroline, it's always nice to meet a fan. Where are you from?"

"London." I said quickly. I wish the conversation didn't turn this way.

Another voice piped in. The American. "Say, I recognize you from somewhere."

"Well, I was on the tour yesterday." I said, trying to sound like a normal fan.

"No, no. I'm sure I've seen you somewhere else." He was happy now, but if he kept egging on, I'd be faced with a mob, or something.

"I would have remembered ever seeing _you_ _guys_ before," I said, feigning adoration.

"You sure? I haven't like slept with you, or maybe a sister?"

"I _definitely_ would have remembered that," Because then the imagery would be playing over and over in my head, and I'd have something worse than a concussion.

"You're probably right." He leaned back in his seat, still content I guess. Egos.

"You know what?" We all turned to the door, where Quentin appeared. "I think I need a word with our new passenger."

I felt the back of my head for comfort, and headed towards him, trying my best the whole while to not look nervous. Quentin pointed out the door towards the deck. It was overcast outside.

"What was it that you, er, wanted?" I stammered.

"I know who you are. And it's definitely not this Caroline character." His voice was gradually rising.

"Well you see—" I started.

"You're here to spy on us for the government." He declared.

I winced at his words. I couldn't agree to that and come up with a logical lie from the top of my head.

"No, I'm not." Quentin lowered his gaze, which was previously raised, probably because he thought he was right. Now he looked at me expectantly. I would have to tell some sort of truth.

"Well of course you're not." He said.

I heard the door behind us creak open. "Oi, what's with all the shouting?" Angus.

I prepared myself for the worst.

"Caroline isn't Caroline." Quentin said smugly.

"I'm—I'm…" I spluttered. Ah fuck, just tell them. "I'm from Pop Wave."

I yanked off my glasses and sunk my head.

"Hey, its Meryl!"

"I thought she looked familiar."

"I knew all along."

"How're the ladies doing?"

"What's it like being unemployed?"

Those were just a few of the responses. This one was the worst, however.

"Throw the girl overboard." Stupid fucking American.

"Smashing idea, Count." Gavin said, coming to his side.

Somewhere along the lines of everyone cheering to throw me over, Gavin Kavanagh picked me up unceremoniously.

"Hey, you can't be serious, let me go!" I shouted, and tried punching him.

"Someone grab her legs."

I hoped all it was, was that they were caught up in the moment. Most likely not, I realized, as the cold water of the North Sea slapped me in the face.

"Holy fuck!" I screamed, as soon as I came to the surface. The clothes I wore were extremely heavy, and having on shoes made swimming no easier.

I came up to the side of the anchored boat, and slapped my hand against the metal exterior.

"It's freezing in here, let me back up!" I yelled up. I couldn't feel my legs.

They were already looking over the edge down at me in my ridiculousness. I shivered again, and started seeing black spots.

"F-fuck." I whispered. My head bobbed at bit under water, and the water made breathing deeply exceedingly difficult.

"Only if you call me gorgeous every time you see me." Gavin rasped.

"F-fine."

"And only if we can publicly humiliate you in front of 23 million people." The Count said.

"Hell no!" I shouted, and pushed away from the boat.

"It's a pretty good day to drown in the North Sea." He said.

"A-and what if the government finds out you killed someone?" I said.

I heard them all agree that that wouldn't look too good. I couldn't focus on them too much, me fingers were no longer pliable. Eventually someone threw over a sling ladder, and I eagerly latched onto it.

When I got to the top, I was ready to drop. "You people are insane." I managed to seethe, before falling to the deck.

"Shit. Is she dead?" Simon said.

"Someone get the stowaway a towel," Quentin said.

"Fucking right." I tried to pry my shirt from my body, but it clung tightly to me. I mean, it was just embarrassing knowing that everyone could see more than I wanted them to. It made me want a sweater.

"Watch your mouth young lady." The Count said.

"Piss off."

"You know, you'd actually be less cold if you weren't wearing those drenched clothes." John from their news broadcast said.

"Excellent suggestion—"

"Shut up." I said, still shivering.

Someone threw a towel on my head, and I wrapped it quickly around me.

"I suppose we could let her dry off inside." Quentin said.

Despite the fact that being inside would be the very first objective on my Things-to do List, I waited until everyone went in before me. I hung at the back, but someone was also lagging behind.

"Hey, I was wondering if you—did you want to use my room to change?"

"I'm sorry, who are you?" I asked. I'd never seen him before, nor heard of him. He seemed closer to my age though.

"I'm Carl… I'm sorry, it was a stupid suggestion, I'll just let you be—" I felt bad, because I realized I just sounded extremely bitchy, and he was tripping all over his words.

"No, no, it was a nice offer. I think I'll take it." I said warmly, or what I hoped was. I think I gave a nice enough smile.

Instead of following the rest of the men into their lounge area, I followed Carl to his room.

He let me in his room by myself, choosing to stay _outside_.

"Hey, um, Carl do you have any clothes I could borrow?" I asked, pressing the side of my face against the door.

"Yeah," He said, startled, "check my bottom drawers."

I went through his stuff. Unfortunately for me, he was no Gavin, having other girls' clothes hanging around, which I never suspected anyways because this boy was nice. But I found a nice loose button-up that would be baggy enough to hide the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra. Oh the joys of being thrown in the ocean with all your clothes on. Anyways, I tried on a pair of his gray pants, which were still snug on me. I silently said sorry, because I would have to go commando on this one, at least until my other clothes dried.

I was surprised my eyeliner wasn't too bad, but I fixed the smudges up. This was pretty unmovable stuff. And don't mention my hair, I usually let the black mass do its own thing.

"Thanks for the clothes, Carl." I made him jump, as he had his back on the door when I opened it.

"Oh, no problem."

"Where shall I put these clothes?"

"Just put them in the hamper, and we'll get to washing them later." He assured me.

We walked silently away from his room towards the others slowly.

"So what shall we call you?" He asked finally.

"I dunno, nothing derogatory."

"Felicity wouldn't have that. I kind of like Caroline." He said meekly.

"Well then I kind of like Carl. When do I get to go home?" I said a little too eagerly, his face fell a little at the last part.

"Next weekend people are coming on the boat, so you could probably catch a ride back with them."

"Oh." I hadn't realized that I could be here for a while.

Carl took us back to the lounge.

"Carl, I never took you for the type." Dave said suggestively, literally the moment we walked in.

Everyone cheered for him. It was awkward, because we both looked at each other and thought 'oh shit'.

Mark came by and patted him on the back, and I heard the clink of beer bottles colliding. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Gavin rolling his eyes, which made me happy in a way.

"Excellent work." "How was she." "How did you do it?" yada, yada, yada.

"Nothing happened." He said plainly. A great groan waved over from them.

"Everybody quiet, we need to sort out when she can get out of here." Quentin said as he walked in.

**Please Review! I like it better than favourites and story alerts combined!**

**And uh, suggestions are helpful, aha…**

**-sage94**


	4. Her

**Mad hatter: Aha no, no, he's a hilarious character, I just thought he be great for poking fun at Meryl. He's actually one of my favourites. And of course, I love Carl :3**

**Scarymouchemusic: maybe there will be ;)**

* * *

><p>Chapter 4: <em>Her<em>

I had to sit on the couch. The Count and Gavin had taken it upon themselves to converse with Quentin about what they should do with me. I honestly can't see how their input would affect Quentin's decision though.

Carl came to sit beside me, while that guy Simon offered me a tea.

"Thanks."

I curled my legs up to my chest. I should have hypothermia or something, but I felt fine, other than the subtle throb at the back of my head.

"We have decided that the only time we can introduce you live on air is sometime near the end of the week, Sunday-ish, but that would mean you would miss the boat Saturday."

"Why can't you just let me on for two minutes on Monday?"

"Because there are less listeners during the week, and we'd rather prolong your suffering." Quentin said.

"Right. And what's to stop me from leaving with that boat Saturday?"

"Nothing really, your ex-crew would be just known as chickens with no sense of honour." The Count said, leaning closer to me.

"I kind of _don't_ mind." I said all nonchalant.

"I don't think the girls will take that too well." Gavin said, observing his .

"Well, I suppose being a chicken would hinder me getting a new job. What are you going to do while I'm on air?"

"We don't know yet."

"I'll tell you what. I'll humour you all by staying as long as necessary to get this monkey off my back."

"Good girl." The Count said.

I really wasn't all that impressed because they weren't sure what to do yet, but hey, maybe I could learn a few things.

"Why would you accept?" Carl whispered to me when we were one of the only ones in the lounge. People had gotten back to work.

"I dunno, for fun?" I said.

"All I'm saying is that from experience, most of the guys aren't too trustworthy."

"But aren't you like friends with them?"

"Sure, but they're not very mature."

"Like me?" I countered. I just wanted him to know that I could handle it.

"I'm just warning you, there is no propriety when it comes to them. It's their ship."

I took his words to heart, surprisingly. I wanted to be prepared if anyone wanted to pull something. I don't need another dip in chilly waters.

I didn't really want to stay in Quentin's room, mostly because I wanted to befriend Carl better.

"Hey Carl, can I stay in your room?" I asked.

"Well… the thing is, I'm rooming with Kevin."

"Kevin? What's wrong with him?"

"Well, he's a bit thick. I mean he's nice and all, but I don't know if he'd move."

"I'd be okay with sleeping on the floor."

"I couldn't do that to you."

"You're not. I volunteer to sleep on the floor." I smiled quickly, and patted him on the head.

For a while, he was the only one I wanted to hang around with. Steadily, I started to lurk around the boat. I mostly went to watch the DJ's. They were pretty good. I mean, I thought I was decent, but when you saw some people like Simon, you could see they put a lot of energy into it. I started to warm up to Harold. He was probably the most normal one on this boat, other than Carl and myself.

I ended up going sneaking into some of the DJ's rooms because they actually had clothes I could wear from previous sexual encounters they had with women who left their clothes. I almost wondered if it was because they thought they would get the chance to come back and sleep with them again. But with the wide variety of clothes I saw, I determined that there was no way that any of these clothes belonged to one woman.

The second day I was on the boat, I went into Gavin's room to find a decent pair of pants, but he came into his room.

Gavin opened the door, "Oh, excuse me for wanting to enter my own room."

I turned and smirked, "That's alright, just next time give me a fair warning."

"You know, I never asked you how you came to be downstairs."

I felt my face flush pink. "Well, I sort of was… snooping. And when I ran to leave, I slipped."

He smirked, and pulled a cigarette out of his blazer pocket and lit it in his mouth.

"You know, I never asked _you_ how _you_ came to be downstairs." I asked him.

He leaned in a bit, to whisper close to my ear. "Right, well, don't tell the lads, but that's where I keep the good stuff."

"Oh, right, I thought I saw you take a swig of something."

I went to leave, but he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and walked me to the lounge. "Let me walk you," he said. When we got back, I saw the reason why he would do that. Sitting on the couch across from me, was Carl. I rolled my eyes, and slipped from out of his grip and ran to sit beside Carl.

"Hi!" I said a bit flustered.

"Oh, hi." I noticed he was a tad crestfallen.

"How are you—" I started by asking him how he was, but good old Gavin Kavanagh cut me off.

"Hey, lad, are you still on about Marianne?" He asked offhandedly.

"Marianne?" I asked amused.

"Oh right, the bird doesn't know about Marianne." Gavin feigned forgetfulness. Again, I rolled my eyes.

Carl ended up being embarrassed. Later, when I got Gavin to go away (actually he had to go on air) I asked Carl about Marianne. She was this gorgeous girl who he'd met for the first time, a niece of Quentin's, and had a nice evening with, and he took her back to his room. When he went to go get a condom and come back to his room, he instead found her in Dave's room, naked. Hell, I'd be angry too. Carl was reluctant to tell me, and I deduced that this was more of a story to be told to other guys, not a girl.

That night, I couldn't sleep much. I was thinking of what I would be doing after this whole thing was over. Hopefully Jackie would find a ship. Holy crap, and hopefully Molly and Justice thought I fine! I hadn't thought of them much, but if it were them, I would be standing on my head with worry.

I looked at Carl's clock from the floor, and saw it was two o'clock in the morning. Wonderful. I left the room, and headed for the kitchen. I need something to eat.

On my way, I stopped in the lounge. The lights were on, and out of habit I was going to turn them off, but a man I hadn't seen piped in, "No, don't."

"Oh sorry." I was about to leave, but I realized I'd never seen this fellow before. He wasn't dressed as part of the actual crew, nor the DJ's. He was wearing some Indian robe, and slacks. His beard was everywhere. "Um, who are you?"

"I think that's an odd question for you to ask." He said meekly. Right, I was technically the stranger. "I'm Bob. The Dawn Treader?"

"You're Bob? Unreal. I was a big fan—" I stopped myself. I had just admitted to one of the DJ's that I was an avid listener. "Don't tell anyone I said that." I stated quietly.

"Oh, right, you're the girl from Pop Wave. They were talking about you the other night." He was very shy with the way he spoke.

"How come I never see you all the time like the others?" I asked. I preferred to deviate from the subject of me.

"Well my show starts in an hour. From three to six in the morning. I sleep a lot, and keep to myself; I focus a lot on my show." He seemed maybe a little intimidated. I didn't understand that part.

"I know. Again, don't tell anyone, but before I first joined my boat five months ago, when I was in school I guess, I used to listen to you instead of study." Didn't I just say I didn't like putting the spotlight on myself? Maybe I just compensated for his quietness.

"Well, I better go get ready for my show." He ruffled his long shaggy hair self-consciously and left.

"Wait! Can I come watch?" I asked. I don't know why I wanted to.

He halted, not moving for a few seconds, but waved me to follow. I bounced along after him.

Though he sounded timid in person, he had the perfect voice for early morning radio. It wasn't the type of voice to annoy you, especially when all you want to do is have some down time, but it was smooth, and wise, and I liked that he picked velvety songs to match his intensity.

I curled up in a large, worn leather loveseat, and soon found myself listening to his voice as I slept.

"Up ye get, Meryl." Bob had pulled me up by my armpits, "You don't want to sleep here."

"Is your show over?" I asked dazedly.

He nodded, and grunted trying to lift me. I shrugged him off, "It's okay." I could tell his age was getting to his strength.

For the rest of the day, again, I tried to watch their shows, and I did, but I was after all worried I'd get some sort of mention on the radio. For the first time, since I was twelve, I listened to Gavin on the radio. I remember being appalled and blushing and all when I'd heard him all those years ago, and today was no exception. Since I was usually broadcasting, _and_ I refused to listen to him when he came back because my ratings plummeted, I hadn't heard him.

Before he waltzed up to his microphone, he said, "Watch and learn, sweetheart."

I let him set up, and I stood on the other side of the glass, and watched him swivel his chair to face me.

"Evening, gentlemen and schoolgirls. Were you being naughty? Were you doing something that would make your parents' hair curl? Gavin knows. Let Gavin tune the judgement out." He flicked on some Rolling Stones straight away. I couldn't see what his eyes were expressing, but I sure knew how _I _felt. Just like the same blood rush as all those years ago, but worse, because the feelings weren't so foreign. When he spoke, a shiver made its way tapping up my back. I almost wish I wasn't standing, because I could feel my knees weaken. This can't happen.

I went to go sit down in a chair, and just so happen to be sitting beside Midnight Mark and Doctor Dave. I let out a shaky breath. They gave me suspecting looks.

"What?" I snapped. All I got was the old raised eyebrow. In attempts to silence them, I tried this out, "Its okay, I'm a lesbian."

"There's no way after that." Dave said.

Mark puffed out smoke, and surprisingly spoke, "No sir."

"Fine." I tried not to turn around and look at Gavin, but I still couldn't help but peer over my shoulder every now and then.

"Well, the tension is too high for me. I'm going to grab a beer. Mark?" Dave said, rising from his seat, and rubbing his rather large stomach.

Mark looked from Gavin, then to me, and stood. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I'm coming." I said quickly, and looked one last time over my shoulder. Gavin gave me the old peace-sign kiss.

"Dangerous." Dave said. I huffed, and hit his podgy back.

Instead of following them, I walked out on deck, where the sun was setting.

I saw the Count, standing by the rail, and looking out to sea. I wasn't going to join him but I saw a cigarette in his hand.

"Hey." I said.

He half turned to me, and cocked his brow, but went back to staring out at sea.

"Do you got a cigarette?" I asked.

Without speaking, he handed me one from his pants pocket. He was a lot more serious than I thought he would be.

"Thanks." I pulled out a lighter that Carl kept in his pants, and lit myself, but didn't leave the Count, surprisingly.

"Do you hate me?" I tried to make it seem like if he answered yes or no, I wouldn't care.

"Not really."

"Oh."

"But I did try to vote you off the boat." I liked that he was honest.

"Good." I knew he didn't want me off for the same reasons I _used_ want to get out of here, but we were almost on the same page.

"So, _why_ are you talking to me?" he asked incredulously.

"I needed a smoke." He nodded. "So how come I have to stay here longer?" I always wondered what they were talking about, the three of them.

"Gavin insisted. And what Gavin wants, Quentin is willing to compromise."

"Oh." More silence. "Why did you shut down our boat?"

He chuckled a bit, but kept mostly sober. And if it wasn't such a personal matter, I could see myself laughing along with him, but I kept my poker face. "Honestly, it was just for fun."

"You know, I'm surprised you guys would actually do something like that. I mean, you seem like a good group of guys—to each other, not around regular people—and I would think you'd respect that other people want to live this kind of life."

He didn't say anything, and I could see his brain tinkering along to what I'd just said.

"And I mean, even though I'm a girl, I know you can relate to someone who only wants to live for that rock and roll."

He lowered his head a bit, but just in thought.

"Just something to think about."

I finished my cigarette, and blew smoke in his face. He stood still for a while, but I went inside because it was getting cold.

The next few days went by quicker than expected. Before I knew it, it was a lovely Saturday morning. I woke up to have my regular tea with Carl. Everyone else was awake, and excited.

"What are you all ancy about?" I asked to no one in particular. I was observing their faces, which were all the same dazed, dreamy faces.

"The girls."

"Oh yeah." I said. I shrunk a bit back in my seat. I knew that the only thing that would be happening on this boat would be something I definitely would not be participating in.

"Carl, you didn't invite anyone, did you?" I whispered to him. I learned that you couldn't say much out loud without garnering everyone's attention. God, their lives are boring, aside from buggering each other's lives up.

Carl awkwardly scratched his head. "Not exactly." He said loudly.

"It's the sad room for Carl, then." Angus teased. Dave punched his arm, probably because he felt kind of bad for what he did to Marianne.

"It's okay, Carl, I'll be here for moral support." I wrapped my arm around his shoulder.

"You sure you don't want to join me for _im_moral support?" Gavin said.

"Damnit, Kavanagh, mind your own business." I cracked.

"Say, Caroline—er, Meryl, I never really asked… How old are you?" Carl whispered when the attention dwindled away from us, and a couple hours had passed.

"Well, Christ, I'll be eighteen by the start of November." I leaned away. That left only a few weeks of October until the day.

"I thought you were a little older."

"Don't I seem young?" I asked.

"Not all the time. I guess. I dunno." Quentin announcing the arrival of the boat of whores interrupted us. Whoops, did I think that up?

I supposed I might as well go up to the deck and see what all the fuss was about. When I got to the railing where everyone was stationed, looking out at the approaching boat, like they haven't seen a woman in a while. Okay, maybe I didn't count too much.

Anyways, the boat had probably a few more girls than there were men on Radio Rock, including the actual ship's crew. Someone was obviously getting an odd number of girls. My gag reflex trembled at the thought. I dreaded thinking of who that would be. But I instantly thought of Gavin and Mark.

To avoid any further awkwardness, I went to wait in the lounge, and thereby limiting any eye contact with the men. Despite sex not being my thing, I still had an overactive imagination that I would prefer to repress.

Every now and then, a DJ would walk by with one or two ladies on his arm, but usually only one.

"Be sure not to get too lonely in here, eh?" Dave said, towing a lady.

"Oh, I won't," I said, trying to look busy.

He walked away, and I tried not to think about Dave naked. Bad mental images will be created.

"So no plans for you four?" I asked, after tapping the desk for about a minute.

I was staring at John, Carl, Felicity and Simon. They awkwardly shook their heads, and were poorly explaining why not.

I got up and went to go sit next to Simon. "What about _you_, Simon?" I asked, poking his arm for effect.

"Oh, I'm not really into… I'm more the kind of person who's waiting for… the one." I smiled internally. His face showed worry, like maybe he wondered if I thought he was peculiar or something.

"No worries mate, I respect that." I nodded.

The Count walked by with two women, tipping an imaginary hat to us sitting in the room. Shortly after, Gavin walked by, but stopped, and smirked at us, and our non-sexual activities.

He pulled the cigarette from his mouth, and smirked. My eyes travelled to the beauty on his arm. As recognition struck me, I just about screamed. I knew _her_ alright.

* * *

><p><strong>Please REVIEW! :D<strong>

**-Sage94**


	5. Moans

**Woo don't forget to REVIEW after you read this chapter guys!**

Chapter 5: Moans

Her. Marlow. She's my sister. Or at least I used to think she was. I don't really know what to call her nowadays. I mean, we grew up together; we played when we were little, we had the exact same parenting, but sometimes, as she became older, I questioned that relationship.

Marlow is about four years older than me. It all began when she was _discovered_ when she was sixteen. She's this big high-fashion model, and I see her pictures everywhere. Literally. At first I didn't think her modelling would get serious, but when my mum took me on holidays to France when I was fourteen, her pictures were in the haute-couture stores that my mother made me accompany her to. I haven't seen her since I was sixteen; she's been all over the world and all this shit, and only sends a postcard to mum, and occasionally dad. Never one mention of me from what I've read. I suppose this is where my mum used to heckle me about initiative, because I have _so_ much to live up to.

But what I want to know is how the fuck she's here with Gavin Kavanagh.

"Is that you, Meryl?" She asked, peering around Gavin. She removed her bug-eyed glasses, to reveal perfectly lined eyes, which were squinted in recollection.

"Lovely to see you, Marlow." I forced out of my mouth.

"You ladies know each other?" Gavin asked. I briefly wondered if he knew we were related, but I decided it was impossible, because there was no way of telling straight away, only if you knew where to look.

"Oh, that's my darling little sister." That must be her classy way of speaking, saying what she thought was ladylike vocabulary; words like darling. What the hell.

Gavin chuckled. "There's no way you're related to that troll." He said to her.

"Hey!" I yelled. I wasn't a troll. Despite not being model-esc like Marlow, I still had my looks too. I just looked rougher around the edges in terms of grooming. My hair was long, wild and wavy, while she kept hers perfectly straight and shoulder length. I kind of envied that hair; I just didn't put any effort. Now that I think about it, there wasn't much different about our faces, but she had mum's tiny ski-jump nose, and mine was simple and straight. We both had the cheekbones, but hers were more pronounced. Mostly because she was so fucking skinny. Like I've been told I could use a few cheeseburgers myself, and I agree, but she was waif thin. Although she still managed to get men under her belt, so it seemed. Her eyes were also blue, whereas mine were dark brown, like my dad. I guess I could go on forever, but it would just annoy the shit out of me, and bore people with how actually perfect my sister was. Or make them fantasize, depending on the person.

Marlow put her glasses back on mischievously, and wrapped her arms around his chest and dragged him back. "Let's get back to that thing you wanted to do." Her voice was throaty, and made me want to hurl.

"Sure thing, sweetheart." He followed her upstairs, and I couldn't look away quick enough to see him squeeze her bum.

"Well that was disgusting."

"She's gorgeous." Simon said to Carl.

"Shut up you guys."

The night couldn't come soon enough. Eventually, the moans died down, and I was allowed to find a book and read in peace. Carl went up on deck with Simon, which I didn't mind, so I was sitting alone. But Dave came out and brought his girl with him.

"Hello, how's solitude treating you?" He asked. "Do you want a beer?" He whispered to the girl beside him and she accepted.

"Perfect." I said, and I set down my book to pay attention to them.

"Well, we're all going on deck, if you want to join us."

"Is Gavin going?" I asked. It sounded pathetic to say that out loud.

"Just have a couple beers and don't worry about that, luv." He stood with the girl on his arm, and they left.

I decided to go, but try not to mind the fact that my sister just had sex no more than ten or so meters away from me. Even if there are walls, its still disgusting to think about.

When I came up, I saw lights had been set up, and found I had to cross almost everyone's path to actually get to stand beside Carl.

"Hey."

"Wanna grab a beer?" I asked him.

"Sure, I'll get em." He put out his cigarette and went to a little table that was set up that had full and empties alike littering it.

Unfortunately, while Carl went to go get them, Gavin approached me.

"She was great." He casually sipped his beer. I looked over at my sister, who was talking to a few other girls. Her hair was still straight and perfect regardless of how _great_ she was.

"That's wonderful Gav. Maybe she can stay while I leave on the boat home?" I suggested.

"Not quite, we still need to intro you tomorrow." I cursed under my breath.

"Fine." I grumbled, drinking my beer with irritation. "But I'll be incredibly drunk."

"Could be dodgy. I'd be up for it." I rolled my eyes at him.

Gavin went back to Marlow, attaching himself to her hip, while I was yet again alone.

But before I speak too soon, the Count, Midnight Mark and Dave all came to join me as well.

"I heard he had a go at your sister." Dave said.

"Disgraceful. You would never fuck a brother's sister."

"No secrets here, eh?" I asked. I don't think Count realized he just counted me among them.

"Afraid not." Dave wrapped a tender arm around my waist, and I couldn't help but be amused by his attempt to pick up under the cover of concern.

"You know what would really push his buttons…" The Count said mischievously, and took a swig of his beer, "being extra friendly with Carl."

"Carl?" I'd never exactly thought super romantic things about him, but I hadn't ever ruled it out.

"Carl." He confirmed.

"What about you guys?" Not that I would do them this moment.

"As much as I would like to, I like seeing Gavin squirm better." Count's eyes squinted in delight. It was scary.

"I would." Dave said, tightening his grip around me, which got me giggling.

"Mark?" I asked.

He slowly inhaled his cigarette, and nodded. I nodded as well, smugly albeit, because I'd always wondered how I measured with someone like Midnight Mark—purely for technical purposes.

Every now and then I would shoot old Marlow the ever-insulting stink-eye, but without much success, because she would smirk at me with her face all unimpressed. I decided to let the bitch be, and put Count's little suggestion to the test. So soon enough, I became less awkward, and gained some liquid confidence from my drink.

Making sure I could see Gavin watching me, I made my way to Carl's side again.

"Hey Carl." A voice that was so foreign to my lips: girly as fuck. I put my arm around his shoulders, and pushed my chest a bit out, and stuck out my butt just a bit. I didn't want to look phony to old Gavin.

"Hi, Meryl." He was taken aback, but smiled anyways.

While Gavin stood across the boat, I knew he was watching, and I looked at him as I whispered in Carl's ear, trying my bet to appear seductive. "Listen to me, Carl. No, don't look up." I snapped, "I'm trying to piss off Gavin, so I was wondering if you could smile and pretend to be all giddy and whatnot."

He did as he was told, "Okay. Oddball."

"So I dunno, maybe we'll go back to your room and play cards, but make it look _really_ suggestive. Because I want to make him mad for sleeping with my sister."

He was close to breaking character, but grinned largely, and we left the deck. I led us through the small throng of people by pulling him by his coat, and we went inside.

"So how long do you usually last?" I asked, once we were inside.

"What?" He asked.

"You know, in bed, so this thing is believable." We reached his room, and we locked the door after us.

"Oh, um…" He tilted his head down.

"Awe that's so cute. You're a virgin." I noted.

"Hey!" His cute little forehead wrinkled. "Well since you know, I can ask if you are."

"Do I look like a virgin?" I crossed my arms.

"No. Well, I dunno, that's why I'm asking."

"Oh. I thought I would. So yes, I guess I still am too." I scratched my head awkwardly, but decided to laugh it off. "So do you have cards?" I asked, before the silence could continue painfully.

We were about one round into crazy eights, when I could hear footsteps approaching. Out of some sick impulse, I moaned really loud.

"What was that?" Carl whispered intensely.

"Shh, play along you idiot." He rolled his eyes, and got up to shake the bed.

The footsteps retreated, and I sighed in relief.

"Good one." I high-fived Carl, and we went back to cards, only getting up every now and then to make outrageous sounds.

Once we figured that people had stopped moving around, which was around two o'clock, I got up to leave. "Well Carl, it's been fun."

"You're just going to leave, after our amazing night?" He asked sarcastically, but he grabbed a hold of my wrist. I glanced down at it with confusion written all over me.

"I'm more of a one night stand kind of girl." I winked at him, and he let go, with a funny look on his face. I leaned in to kiss his nose and said, "let's do that again sometime." He grasped the back of my head and quickly pulled me in for the briefest of kisses. Wait, what? I jerked back, and hit my head off the top of the bunk bed.

"Okay, ow."

"Sorry, sorry, that was a stupid thing to do…" He got all embarrassed, which made me feel bad.

"No, it's okay, I was just caught off guard, that's all. Warn me next time you plan to plant one on me after we have fake sex, Carl." I ruffled his hair before stumbling out the door. I saw no one in the hallway, but ruffled up all my hair and messed up my clothes anyways in case someone waltzed by. I still couldn't believe what he'd just done.

I went to the lounge, where only the Count and Bob were sitting, although not together.

"Is everyone still on deck?" I asked.

"No, they went back for one last…" He waved his hands in continuation. One last shag,

"Right."

"So…" He grinned at me. "I didn't think you'd actually fuck him." Was that language necessary? _Says the angel_.

"Nothing happened."

"That's not what Quentin said. Apparently you were loud." He chuckled and patted the seat beside him.

"Was that who walked by?" I laughed at the little stupid act I pulled. "Again with the _no_ secrets here."

"Well you sure had the rest of us convinced. Everyone was actually betting who you'd sleep with first."

"That's concerning."

"Well someone's bound to mention your promiscuity tomorrow on air."

"Is all this needed? Can't we just make up and let me be on my way?" I asked. I don't think I really meant it. I kind of liked it here, minus the obvious people. Person.

"You might as well, I mean, you've been here this whole time."

"But that's because I couldn't leave." I think that was a lie. I'd probably be a bit reluctant if I were presented with an exit. This was fun.

"True. I'm going to get back to my room." For some shagging. I understood, especially since these men would die if they didn't have sex as often as they did.

"Night."

"Morning." He corrected. Right, it was only like two-thirty.

It was quiet for a bit, and I went to go fix myself a snack. I came back to the lounge and had my nightly chat with Bob.

"Did you, er, invite someone?" I asked, biting into a piece of toast.

He tilted his head downwards, "Yes," was his quiet reply.

"Oh that's lovely, who is it?" It was so sweet to see an old couple.

"Just a woman." He said shyly. Oh Bob.

"Alright, keep your secrets." I winked at him, and decided to finish my snack in peace.

"I'm off to my studio. Are you going to come watch?" He asked, his fingers nervously fidgeting with each other.

"Yeah, in a sec, I was just going to go on deck for a smoke," as long as no one was up.

"I'll see you then," He shuffled out of the room, and I finished my snack quickly to make it upstairs.

It was nice and brisk out, and I was completely alone, which isn't normally possible, even back on my old ship. I felt the buzz of my last beer fading away, but I figured I better stop drinking. I just smoked and looked out onto the waters. The night was pretty cloudy, and I couldn't see much without the moon.

Since their boat was stationary, and the whole crew was in their rooms, probably sexing it up, I could understand how an approaching boat could be overlooked. It was moving slowly, probably to avoid detection, especially this early in the morning. I squinted, but couldn't see anyone on this boat. It was in rather good condition, compared Radio Rock's, and to the boat that was parked by us from the ladies.

I was about to go back inside and tell someone the boat was almost a hundred meters away, but I heard shouting. Were they yelling my name?

Once they were in the light of the deck, I choked on smoke and realized it was my entire crew. I tossed my butt over the rail and told them to quiet down. This was so unreal; I felt my heart warm as a result of this touching moment. It was short-lived, as I would have to again have to explain much to my embarrassment how I came to be stuck here.

They lowered a rowboat, and had Molly and Justice come and get me. I was about to step over the rail, when I winced as I heard Carl say my name.

"Meryl, where are you going?" He said. I was sitting on the rail, torn.

"Shit, hurry up Meryl!" I could hear Justice whisper furiously.

"I can't stay here forever Carl. And I thought, hey, why not avoid embarrassment?" I explained poorly. It felt poor because he was the only good friend I'd made, besides awkward Bob, and he would probably get the brunt of the torment from his crew once they find out they've been duped. "Its not just me leaving, is it?" I guessed. I'd be all right if it were wrong. I got off the rail, but I went to Carl, to give him a tight hug. "Dude, I'll always remember you. You should come to shore sometime." I tried to keep this goodbye optimistic, because from the week I'd been there, he seemed like the kind of person to let things get to him, even if he were quiet about it.

I waved goodbye to him as we left, but his face still held a dumbfounded look to it. I know he was a pretty loyal friend, but I was surprised he didn't move to tell someone. I suppose walking in on someone shagging would be scarring.

**:O is this the last of them! If you think so, then this is a pretty short story. Bleh.**

**Also, I'm finished my exams woo! I killed my ancient history exam (in a good way), and didn't even study til like last night.**

**-sage94**


	6. Under My Thumb

Chapter 6: Under My Thumb

Once they got me inside the boat, the questions and comments came pouring.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"Are you okay?"

"You're lucky we came."

"We should have come with you when you asked."

"That way I never would have let this happen."

"How did you end up staying?"

"Did they touch you?"

"How did even going near them get into your thick head?"

"That was honestly the stupidest thing you've ever done."

"Hey, everybody shut up." Jackie said, raising her hand. In all my life, I've never been this taken aback by their concern, or whatever this was they were giving off. I think some people were more pissed than others, and at me, to make things ten times better. "Tell us everything." She said calmly.

I explained everything from arriving, to falling, and to how they were expecting to embarrass us nationally. Everything except the fact that I had made friends and that I had almost enjoyed myself. And they definitely didn't need to know that my idiot sister was there. I didn't tell many people about her anyways. Otherwise I probably wouldn't have many friends that wanted to be _my_ friend. But I couldn't see how being my friend would better their chances with my sister, since she hardly contacts me. Anyways, I got to stop worrying about her. She can fuck whoever she wants to fuck.

"Well?" Justice was standing by my side, her hands on her hips, and was staring indignantly at Jackie.

"Well what?" She asked, suddenly coming out of her focused gaze on the floor.

"What are we going to do about it?"

"We can't _do_ anything. Not without going back, and we all know how successful that was." She looked pointedly at me.

I nodded, not disagreeing. "So where did you get the boat?" I asked quietly, just to Jackie.

"Only borrowing it, after we all heard about you fucking up, we came to get you." She joked.

"Aha, sorry, Jack. So how are we getting back into the scene?"

"We'll need donations. A lot of them. I called my family _everywhere_ and they're sending in what CD's they can." I happened to know that her entire family supported her work on seas. Unlike my own.

"Well that's good, but I meant are you looking at ships."

"Oh, yeah. The chap who lent us this boat knows a guy who's willing to sell, now that he's too old." She nodded matter-of-factly, and got bored with me, and went back to tending to the boat.

I sat by myself, thinking about how swell my departure would go with the rest of the guys on Radio Rock. I'd be surprised if I wasn't humiliated anyways.

It was about morning when we arrived back on shore, the sun had already risen quite a bit, and I was twiddling my thumbs nervously, waiting for Simon to say something on air, as he was going to take over for the morning.

'_Good morning, England, and you're listening to Simple Simon's Breakfast Show on two-oh-three meters on the medium waveband. You're one of twenty-three million people listening to Radio Rock this morning!"_

Simon sounded as he usually did, because his voice woke me up while I was on their ship, but today it didn't make me feel perky, no, it made me nauseas.

'_Now, today we promised you all a special guest but unfortunately she couldn't make it out to the studio. Instead, let's have a listen to some Stones, then it's back to John for news at eight.'_

I knew Simon was courteous enough not to say anything, but I knew Gavin would be dropping hints all over the place when he went on air.

"Well that wasn't so bad." Molly said, patting me on the back.

Suddenly, though, that sinful voice of Gavin came on air '_It has come to the attention of the rock community that we have lost—only a few weeks ago—the radio station Pop Wave. Most of you probably knew about the rivalry between our two stations, and it would bring us great pleasure to know how these ladies are doing. Our guest agreed to come on air to do a live interview. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, we'd like everyone to help us bring her back to the ship, to finish what bargain we started. The name of this guest is the infamous disc jockette Meryl Ferguson, sister to the _famed_ model Marlow Ferguson.'_ I _did_ catch that last slam. '_If anyone could help us in bringing her back to us, any and all help would be appreciated. Oh, and Meryl. It's on.'_

I sank to the floor in defeat. Everyone loved Gavin; they would do anything for him, even bring little old me back. He fed me to the sharks. But I just didn't understand what lengths his fans would go for him.

On shore, I looked left and right, because although I was _infamous_ as Gavin put it, I was still sort of noticeable. From the advertising we did, we had a shit ton of posters put up of us to get the Pop Wave name out there. My _wanted poster_.

The whole crew, including me, mistakenly went to get breakfast in town, and someone down at Radio Rock must have said something more descriptive, because we literally sat down, and were bombarded with questions about Radio Rock, and what happened to us. I was asked multiple times about how I knew Gavin.

The following weekend, I was back at my house. I had Molly and Justice over and all, and we were talking about Radio Rock.

"So, on the way back, you never _really_ told us what happened." Molly said with a wink.

"Yeah, boat full of sex-deprived boys, what was it like?" Justice asked. Both of them were eating me out of house and home, but Dad really didn't mind because he thought they were gorgeous. I guess the old man is entitled, since he's divorced.

"You're joking right?" I almost choked on my smoke.

"Especially the way Gavin was talking about you on the radio last week. You really pissed him off."

"Ew, he's like really old. And you're listening to them?"

"Well, what are we supposed to listen to? BBC radio?" Justice said.

"Don't tell Jackie I said this, but he's actually smokin' hot." Molly said, sighing.

"Yeah, he's actually something of a sex god, unless you've been living under a rock." Justice, well, justified.

"Slept with a few people I know." Molly said, leaning back into my couch further, and set her drink down.

"Molly, _you_ know everyone." Justice quipped. It was true. Molly although very cool and collected used to have the habit of sleeping around which I never held against her. She was a bit of a romantic, and thought she fell in love quite easily.

"On the subject of Jackie, she's actually had a brush with that one guy Quinny or something, before."

I had to laugh at Molly. "Quentin?" I wrinkled my nose.

"Quentin." She confirmed.

"You mean, they like, had sex?" I asked.

"Oh Meryl, you're so naïve." Justice said, and Molly laughed along, prompting me to kick them both.

"Shut up." But I nodded my head a little. Jackie was old enough, I guess, to have sex with a guy as old as Quentin. I mean, she didn't look nearly as old as him, but I never asked how old she was. She looked about forty-ish, maybe a little older, but still in good shape. "Do you think that's why she didn't want to get back at them?"

"I wouldn't be surprised." Molly said.

"You girls want another beer?" I rolled my eyes at my dad, who walked into our living room.

"Go away Dad. Stop trying to get my friends drunk." My friends giggled.

"Never hurts to try." He grinned foolishly, and I could see why my mum used to like this guy. His funny and playful air about him. But I still think he shouldn't flirt in front of his own daughter. Anyways, he left as told raising his hands in defence.

When my friends were sure he was away, they looked at me with suspicious eyes. "You never did answer our original question." Justice said.

"It wasn't even a question… more of an inquiry…" I supposed.

"So did you meet anyone?" Molly pressed.

"No." I said way too quickly. I almost slapped myself for sounding _so _believable.

"What's his name?" She asked, leaning in.

I groaned, and figured I might as well, "C-Carl."

Choosing to ignore my stutter, she persisted, "Who is that? I know that's not a DJ's name. I think."

"No, it's not. Actually, I never asked him why he was there. He didn't clean, or help out much. Maybe he was staying with one of the DJ's." I shrugged.

"Is he good-looking, that's what I want to know?" Justice said.

"Of course." Molly answered for me, and I nodded along.

"And you slept with him?"

"Of c—no. Wait, guys, he's just my friend. I think." The recollection of being in his room was more memorable than I would have liked. Because those moments being fuzzy from beer would be _all _too kind on my feelings.

They cocked their eyebrows at me, not at all convinced, and I couldn't blame them because I should feel guilty, but I don't.

"And _me_, this whole time I thought you were a lesbian." Justice commented. Molly snorted.

"Noted. I'll pocket that info for later." I said dryly.

"So what _are_ you going to do about this boy?" Molly asked.

"Well, since we were overall unsuccessful, and I frankly don't need anymore rescuing, I don't plan on doing much." I folded my arms across my chest.

"Ah, it was worth a try," Molly said, and then downed the rest of her beer, "We need more drinks."

"Oh no. Not in my house."

"Wait until tomorrow, we'll get a couple more girls, and go clubbing or something."

"Pfft. Good luck getting me in." I said. Not because I would have trouble, but now I was not in the mood to drink and smoke.

"Fuck that, you're coming, if Molly has to sleep with every bouncer to get you in." Justice promised.

"Hey!" She shouted.

Sure enough, we called Jackie first, who had enough authority to garner up all the girls, and we hit the town, stopping at a god-awful club. There were ridiculously skimpy girls everywhere, while I was in my jeans and tight tee garb. Okay, maybe I brushed my hair.

"We honestly look ridiculous." Molly shouted into my ear, over the loud music, "I shouldn't have worn my bra."

I sidestepped away from her. Some things should not be brought up. I guess you could say I wasn't as comfortable mentioning my body as everyone else in my crew. I mean, I know how to let loose, but I'm not really a girl _girl_. Molly patted my back, and went to go dance with a few gents. Me, on the other hand, I went ducked out to the bar down the street to grab a drink, instead of staying in the club to only get packed in there like a sardine.

There, I sat at the bar, with a nice pint in between my palms, and I patiently sipped while watching some lads play billiards. I looked at the tacky matching billiards clock up on the wall, and saw that it was about midnight. I'd join up with my friends at about one-thirty or something.

Outside of the bar doors, I could hear a rambunctious noise, making me irritated. It sounded like a horde of elephants. Unfortunately for me, they came into the bar, and sat down at the bar, two seats away from me, only some loving couple separating us. It's a nightmare, honestly.

Whoever it was placed a hand on my shoulder, trying to get my attention. Poor soul; I felt ready to bitch or something. I turned around, and bugged my eyes. There was no escaping the expression of recognition that passed over the plump man's face.

It was Dave. I leaned back against the bar, and frantically looked around him for a route of escape.

"Meryl." He said expectantly.

"Sorry?" I tried to play dumb, no matter how fruitless that attempt was.

"No, no." He pressed with a smug smile.

"Dave, please." I said, shushing him.

"Persuade me." He cocked his eyebrow.

"Don't!" I shrieked.

"Oi lads, check it out." He said rather loudly.

I pushed his fleshy chest with my hands, and recklessly pushed past him. However, I unsuccessfully ran into Carl.

"Carl." I breathed. We were unnaturally close; I could count the inches between our noses on one hand.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, flustered.

"No, what are _you_ doing here?" I asked as well, as his entire crew, aside from Quentin gathered round.

"Meryl." Gavin's voice raised my arm hairs, and I cringed. "What a pleasant surprise. Did your sister mention me?"

"No, actually, she stated how it was a bit of a disappointment." She didn't actually, considering that was the first time I'd seen her in a while, but I figured I'd get a kick out of annoying him.

Gavin lunged towards me, raising a hand. Instinctively, I pulled behind Carl. He stopped himself, and stood back to survey us. "Oh, isn't that just _precious_." I could tell he was irked.

We pulled apart instantaneously.

"You did promise us a show full of humiliation." Gavin cut right to it.

"No I didn't." I said, smiling in innocence. "Don't you all have a show to go on? Or did you fall apart without me?" I teased.

"Didn't you hear? Simon is engaged." News John inputted. I didn't think he drank.

But in fact I did hear that. I didn't want to admit that though, when Simon had announced that on his show, because that would divulge them with information I'd rather not give. "Oh. Well don't let me ruin this night for you then…" I gave a nervous toothy grin.

"A stag doesn't not entail _fun_." I didn't like the way Dave said that.

"I don't think I could progress your _fun_." I sneakily started moving towards the door.

"Alright everyone, I have a proposition. To end Gavin's suffering," The Count spoke up, "How about," He stroked his beard thoughtfully, for show, "if you don't come on air yourself, we just tell everyone anyways."

I didn't like those options at all. Both ended in humiliation. But only one could tell my side of the story. I thought of how going there myself, perhaps with the aid of my own crew could benefit. Well, not exactly, but the situation Pop Wave was in could be saved.

"Can I get back to you on that? I need to… consult with my crew." By this time I was standing in front of the door, ready to bolt.

"We'll give you three weeks to respond, any time before that is good." The Count offered.

"I say one week." Gavin eyed me suspiciously.

"Two weeks!"

"Done." Count confirmed.

I propped the door open by my foot, before running out. "Congrats Simon!" I shouted, making my way out of their presence.

I could hear a faint "You're welcome!" coming from the bar.

**Sorry this took a while… tehe, I had work and shtuff. Yes, I got a job, and a life. Not that that is justification for leaving you guys :(**

**-Sage94**


	7. Chicken

Chapter 7: Chicken

"This is your chance!" Molly whispered to me excitedly. "That boy you like!"

"No, we can't exactly think about that _now_, can we?" I muttered back to her. We had gathered back at my house, crowding into my living room, at three in the morning when I had found them still at the club, and hauled them back. Of course my father was all right with it. He's single.

Despite this meeting being at my house, because apparently I was the only person with a stable living place (not entirely true), the older DJ's were mostly the ones speaking on behalf of the rest of us.

"I say this is a brilliant plan. And when they're sleeping, we snap all their records and tapes in half." Lacy said excitedly.

"Well, wouldn't this opportunity be very favourable for a… collaboration of sorts?" Gertrude said wisely. Even though she sounded wise, and I kind of agreed with her, still most of the crew groaned, and started arguing against it.

"Any dealings with these toddlers would be most unpleasant. They've been like this to us since before we set sail, if you recall." Kelly justified, trying to silence the bickering. I stopped to think. I'd never heard that story before. It must make sense though, since both our stations had to have started way before I showed up, and Justice and Molly had mentioned that Jackie had an _encounter_ with Quentin.

"We have no choice _but_ to go! We can't let them walk all over us!" Frankie said.

"If we go, they're going to ruin our reputation!" Kelly said.

"If we _don't_ go, they're going to do that anyways. We may as well go with what honour we have left. I say no more hiding." Frankie argued.

"Same here! There're girls coming around my house looking for you, Meryl, saying Gavin sent them." Lacy said. She took on a tone of annoyance that I rarely heard before tonight, and her eyes, I thought, were about to roll themselves out of their sockets.

"Oi, they're still out there?" Molly asked, prodding my arm. I shrugged.

"I agree…" Jackie suddenly began. This whole while, she had been sitting, listening to the opinions laid down with contemplative eyes, and everyone shut up to hear her out. "I agree with Gertrude."

Everyone who had been against what wise Gertrude had said was clearly disappointed, because they knew that Jackie held the last word.

"But we can't exactly send us all down there." Lacy said.

"I'll send myself, along with volunteers. Anyone going in there will certainly not be going alone."

Two weeks later, we left early in the morning, the seven of us: Frankie, Gertrude, Jackie, Molly, Justice, Thelma and me.

I wasn't too excited to go back on, but I could tell that Jackie felt even less excited than me. As Radio Rock's boat lights could be seen in the distance, her face lost a little more colour. I felt bad for even knowing about her and Quentin, since I thought if I slept with someone I wouldn't like some seventeen year old to know. She nervously kept buttoning and unbuttoning her jacket, and looked worse than me on my first date.

But what I found funny, as we were approaching, there was already a boat leaving. A young woman, blonde and pretty, maybe a little older than Molly, was pouting, but no tears. Obviously someone on the boat upset her, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was that skank Gavin. She sailed away, leaving the rest of us wondering.

There were no DJ's waiting for us outside, which I kind of suspected since this was half unannounced—we didn't tell them we were coming first thing, but we were scheduled to come within the two weeks we were given.

We came up to the side, and one of the others who worked on the boat for maintenance came to help us on board, grinning all the while because he probably knew our predicament. Crap already.

He showed us to the main lounge, and I already knew the way but stood at the back.

When we dropped our stuff, no one occupied the room. I could faintly hear the hums of voices coming from the dining room.

"Jackie they're in the dining room." I voiced to her.

Uncharacteristically, she whispered to me, maybe sounding a little nervous, "Should I go, or you? I mean, you _have_ been here before."

I froze as well, and for a moment, I looked onto Jackie as my equal. I mean, she never really showed her emotions before anything having to do with Quentin, which brought her to the emotional level of a youngster like me. And I hardly ever admitted I was young.

"I'll go." I said, and left the rest of my group restlessly annoyed at being there. Also I knew they were uncomfortable, not even two minutes on the boat.

I tiptoed to the dining room, a shabby enough place, with generally filthy wear and tear to it much like the rest of this place. I stood in the doorway, and listened for a bit rather than make my presence known, because everyone was gathered, obviously having some heated discussion.

Everyone was to one side, save for one man. Unsurprisingly, it was Gavin. Why wasn't I shocked everyone was crossing their arms at him. I mean, typically he was a well-liked guy for his "cool" factor, but he seemed like the type to put himself into these types of situations to make him the enemy.

"…It's the dark side of rock and roll." Gavin said. I briefly wondered what he did this time.

"Can you tell me one thing?" I whipped my head to Simon. His usually happy voice was choked with sadness. From this angle, I could see the glare of light against his watery eyes. I never knew Simon closely, but whatever brought his spirits down certainly must have been harsh. "Before she left this morning, you didn't… you know?"

There was a silence that had me guessing they weren't about to like the answer. I looked at the Count, who was unimpressed to say the least, and rubbed his stubbly face.

His inevitable reply came. "Just one little pop." I immediately thought '_wow, who'd he fuck this time?_' "I thought it was the least I could do after all the trouble the lovely girl had gone to."

Simon immediately rose, and strode towards the only exit, and I made room in the doorway. The trouble being now, I was in perfect view. Carl quickly followed, but stopped shortly to give me a perplexed look.

"Hi." I waved nervously to the rest of the room after Carl had left, unsure of how to react to this somewhat mysterious argument. I tried to ignore Gavin's face, which had turned a tinge smug at my arrival.

After everyone somewhat acknowledged my presence in their own way, I managed to see Angus whisper back to Dave, "Can't blame him though." They were still into the argument.

"Oh yeah you can." The Count said loudly, not looking back at that nut. "Mister, have you ever heard of the Vietnam War?" His sceptical gaze was focused on Gavin harshly.

In his amused voice, he replied, "I have."

"Well, that Holocaust is simply a playground skirmish next to what you're about to experience." I think his American accent just got a little less annoying as a result of threatening Gavin.

Even though Gavin started to chuckle, Count continued, "I'm declaring war. W-A-R. I'm gonna tear you apart."

I decided before this would get out of my depth, I would go find Carl, who went after Simon. But first, I decided to tell my crew.

On my way back, Quentin came in stride with me to the lounge. "Back already?" He asked in a pleased tone.

I'd never had a playful banter with him since he always intimidated me a little.

"Brought a little something back with me." I bragged, testing the waters with him.

"Is that so?" He turned to look down at me, his smirk ready, but his eyes unreadable beyond his sunglasses, this fact making me adjust my glasses further up my nose so that my eyes were completely out of view. We turned into the lounge, and I could see his mouth twist in some sort of recognition upon seeing my crew. I'd been waiting for that reaction, actually.

Jackie wasn't looking at us, but was in a heated conversation with the rest of my crew. Behind us, Radio Rock filed through, their faces somewhat brightening at our attendance; Obviously not because they were happy to see us.

I cringed, because Jackie turned around, and only had petrified eyes for the man standing next to me. I took comfort for her, in that the rest of her face was stone.

"Quentin." She stated.

"Jaclyn." He said, bemused. I could see my crew's eyes widen, along with my own. No one called her that, and got away with it.

She looked down in humour, knowing all too well how she herself reacted to that name. "It's Jackie."

"Not to me." His voice was assuming, but Jackie kept her cool.

I slipped behind the group, as it was awkward enough already, and went out the door of the lounge to find Carl like I had promised myself.

As soon as I turned that corner that led towards their bunks, a hand had already wound itself around my wrist, gripping tight and stopping me.

Immediately after I caught my breath I taunted, "How did you fuck up this time, to make your whole crew angry?"

"Not _how_, _who_." Gavin said, not the least bit shameful.

I shook my head, putting the pieces together. "That was Simon's wife!" I loosened my wrist from his hand.

"_Was_. She's gone now, so I can't see the problem anymore." He waved his hands for emphasis and annoyance, and placed them in his navy trouser pockets.

"Yeah, but guess who's wifeless now?" I whispered furiously.

He paused for a moment and observed me for a fraction of a second. "I didn't think you cared who I slept with."

He shrugged, smirked, and left without letting me have a proper chance to respond to that. I'd probably end up coming up with a proper retort hours later when I was left to myself, not that it would matter by then to Gavin.

I was glad for the cover of my sunglasses. "I _don't_."

I carried on down the cramped corridor and heard faint sobs coming from Simon's room, and I knocked tentatively. Without waiting for a reply, since there was none, I opened the door to see Carl anxiously sitting on the floor, while Simon sat on the bed. They both looked up to see me.

Quietly I shut the door behind me, and went to go sit next to him.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" I said softly. I knew my voice was much more gentle than I ought to have it in front of these people. As an extra incentive, I started to rub gentle circles on his back, like my grandmother did when I would stay with her, for comfort.

I don't quite know why I was being so nice to him. I mean, as I might have mentioned before, he was a jolly enough fellow, but we weren't exactly mates yet.

"No." He mustered faintly. I was about to back away, figuring he wanted to be alone, but he sunk his face into my shoulder, and started to sob. I could generally settle small arguments on my own, but a full-blown crying man on my shoulder was a tad out of my area of expertise. And I _still_ don't know why I came to see Simon.

I ruffled his hair and started to smooth it down like I would do for my baby cousins when I wanted them to calm down. Then I looked at Carl, my eyes wide with fear. I tried to convey my panic at this situation, but he gave me a half hazard side-face grin, and two thumbs up. Sure, maybe I looked like I was doing fine, but c'mon.

We—excuse me, _I_—managed to get him to stop crying, and talk. He told me how he'd met this lovely lady, who he was sure was the one. They were going to spend the rest of their lives together… or so he thought. Simon, probably the most innocent grown man I've ever encountered, was played for a fool. She married him to be on the boat to be with Gavin. That _swine_. That whole time he knew what she was there to do, and he never said a thing. That's just as bad as if _he_ suggested she do it. But as bad of a part that Gavin played, Eleanor was way up there in my bad books now. That blonde I saw this morning, which, now that I think of it, was probably only sad that she lost Gavin, deserved to be kicked off. I'm only sad that I probably won't be the one to kill the instigator, Gavin, since Count staked his claim, and Simon was too big a softie.

Simon finally took his head off my shoulder, and I looked down to see that my gray sweater was now damp with salty tears.

"It's okay Simon, you don't need people like her in your life." I said, patting his back, indicating we should get up.

I had been paying avid attention Simon, so much so, that Carl slipped my mind. He was on the floor, sleeping. I nudged his pale face with the toe of my shoe, and he woke with a start. "C'mon." I said. He followed, and stretched lethargically.

We decided to join the rest of the gang, who were in the lounge, divided into two obvious cliques. There was Gavin sitting with Mark and Dave, while Angus, Kevin, Felicity, Count, News John, and Harold sat to the other side. Then there was my crew, huddled tightly still. The two Radio Rock groups had one thing in common; they were sizing up the comrades formerly known as Pop Wave.

As soon as we walked in, everyone looked up, expressions varying. I could tell Jackie was angry that I was away, but mostly people wondering why we were with Simon, I'm sure. Hey, I have to keep informed.

"Hello, all." I addressed, since there was no way I could get Carl or Simon to speak.

"Well, now that we're all here, we can examine the situation." Quentin began brightly. "And ponder why Meryl would have brought _other _people with her."

I looked around, trying to appear nonchalant about it. I'd let Jackie handle this one.

"Well, technically only I _needed_ to come with her, but the rest of my girls are here for…_support_." Jackie boasted.

"Why? We're only doing one show." Dave stated.

The Count waved his hand around a bit. "No, no," Everyone looked at him expectantly, "they're looking for a bargain."

I could hear Gavin snort very loudly cigarette smoke out his nose.

"How very unbecoming. Gavin making pig sounds." I commented low enough for it to sound like I was thinking aloud, but loud enough for a couple sniggers.

"So you're suggesting we let you stay here to perform _alongside _us?" Gavin said with disgust after sneering at me.

"And why not? After all, we _did_ decide to not say what you did and press charges for attempted homicide when you sunk our boat." Jackie crafted. It certainly was a stretch, considering we did alert authorities. But no one had to know that.

"No, the deal was for only one show with Meryl, complete with full-on humiliation." Gavin said while laughing at us.

Everyone ignored him. "This could be beneficial for ratings. That would be yet another kick in the nuts for the British government." Quentin mused.

"They're staying here?" Kavanagh asked, sounding panicky. I believe he must have expected his crew to back him up, but there was no respect left for him at the moment.

Count laughed at his discomfort, while Dave spoke, "They're _staying_ here." Dave was probably excited to get his hands on a woman. I'm not surprised.

"I'm not sharing my air time with a bunch of overrated radio broads."

"I thought this was what you wanted." I said to him with fake curiosity.

"The deal was—" he started.

"I don't think you're in a position to argue." Count said. Everyone else's disapproving stares were proof.

"Besides, Gavin, we'll have loads of fun. After all, there's no need to be so uptight about it. What would the listeners think; Gavin _not_ game?" I suggested. I just egged him on; guys are way too competitive.

Later, when everyone was set up with a room—some people had to share, and Quentin made the boys move in together for the time being— and the matter was partially settled, we decided to find out later how long we would be staying.

I went up on deck to get some space, but my good friend Carl was already there.

"Hullo." I said, coming beside him.

"Hi." He lowered his head onto the railing on top of his folded hands.

"So that sure was something, eh?"

"Yeah, you guys staying here."

"I was thinking more about Simon. Poor lad."

"You really need to stop acting like that."

"What?" I defended.

"_Lad_. Like you're old. Because you're not."

"I never said I was, Carl." We were kind of lightly arguing, but the matter obviously bothered him.

"Well you're not. You're my age. Maybe younger."

"Girls mature faster than boys. This boat is kind of living proof of that." I said jokingly.

"So."

"What brought this on?"

"There're forty year old men on board. Sure they're fun, but..." You're way out of your depth, Carl.

I snorted, and dropped my head into my hands. This was just too funny. "And you're saying this because?"

"Simon will be alright." Carl said softly, aware that he might've took a step too far with this 'argument'. He immediately switched topics to my previous issue, since I clearly won.

"Good." I said quietly also, and we just stood relaxing for a moment. I still didn't understand what exactly he was trying to say.

"Well, I'm going inside now. By the way, Count is supposed to be on air soon, for some big announcement to challenge Gavin. Should be interesting." He slowly turned around, and as his invitation, he beckoned with his head in the direction he was going.

"I might as well. It's not like I'm going anywhere."

In his studio, Count sat in his swivel chair, and was thrumming his fingers on his desk, waiting for the jingle to finish from News John's reports.

He waited three beats before booming his American accent over the air, "My dear listeners, you may have noticed a certain cooling of the relationship between his royal highness, the Count of Cool, and a guy called Gavin. Well, I am eager to show the world that he is a coward. So I'm suggesting something that's pretty big where I come from, and it's a game called Chicken!" He started to crow like a chicken, mocking Gavin through the glass, since he was there, subjected to watch. "We will let you know how that goes, tomorrow, when your very own Count comes back on the air, victorious."

"Alright everyone, let's take this show outside." Dave announced, procuring a megaphone from somewhere. I'd learn to stop asking questions in time, I guess.

Outside on the deck, I wasn't sure what was going to happen. Of course Count had tried to explain the game well enough, but he mostly told everyone to watch.

"The man who climbs furthest is the victor!" Dave exclaimed. Count and Gavin stood of either side of the boat's antenna. "May the best man win… and the biggest _chicken_ lose!"

They readied to climb, placing their feet on the first bars. "Are we ready?" Gavin and Count both put out their cigarettes, "Then let the ascent commence!"

The two men began to climb quickly, and instantly everyone started to cheer for Count. Soon I caught myself practically roaring like everyone else, cheering for Count, but I reserved myself a bit, opting to clap. I would occasionally glance over at Simon, who wasn't making a sound, but you could see the determination in his face, wanting with all of his might for Count to win.

Nearly halfway to the top, they were neck and neck, but Count lost his footing. I recoiled at bit, along with everyone else, voicing our awe; Count was a little ways away from being a pancake on the deck. He held on for his life though, but gave Gavin the lead. I only felt disappointed that I couldn't hear them discuss while Count regained his footing.

Radio Rock began to yell at them to stop, and get back down. "Come on guys, don't be stupid!" Dave spoke through the megaphone. "Enough is enough, you made your point!" However, they resumed their climb.

"Quentin, do something!" Felicity begged.

He rolled his head and muttered a profanity before gaining the nerve to tell two grown men, "For god's sake, STOP!"

I was almost saddened that neither of them gave the impression of giving up. While all of us were still busy watching the climbing DJ's, I could hear Quentin senselessly say, "All he did was have sex with someone's wife… Sorry Simon, nothing personal…" That awkward moment was almost funny because it was Quentin, but still too soon to make light of, and you could see the glare coming off of Simon's face.

"If you fall, you will die!" Dave tried. "Oh my god." They were approaching the top, and both weren't making their way down anytime soon.

Finally, they sat atop the perpendicular beams, resting in place, talking from what I could see. They swivelled their heads in both directions, and I had a very frightening thought. They wouldn't do _that_ would they?

**Wahhh sorry this is sooo late :(**

**Please review anyways…**

**-sage94**


	8. Humility

Chapter 8: Humility

I watched as they eased to either sides of the mast, my tummy filled with butterflies for them.

"Step away from the edge, you silly bastards, this is madness!" Dave shouted. Everyone voiced his or her protests as well.

They were stopped and finally the rest of us realized they were going to jump.

"What do you say now?" Count shouted from high above.

"I say, I know a chicken when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now! Adios amigo!" Suddenly, Gavin lunged off the beam, falling towards the water. With a tall and sickeningly loud splash he landed in the sea.

I found myself running to the side of the boat, waiting for him to resurface. My stomach threatened to drop to the floor, I was so nervous. His wake hit the boat, and he had still not resurfaced. The bubbles where he landed were beginning to dissipate, when his blond head poked out of the water's surface.

I was relieved for a moment, until I heard the anticipated yell and splash of Count. I had been so focused on one of the DJ's dying I forgot about the other one.

Everyone was scrambling to get them back on the boat, while I anxiously wondered if it was possible to be killed from that fall. It was when they got a good look of Gavin's limp body that I did think that I was indeed possible.

A life preserver was thrown at each of the men, as they bobbed over the waves, trying to get their senses back.

I sat in the lounge on stairs with Simon by my side, as Felicity took it upon herself to tape them up as best as she could. They repeatedly refused to be taken ashore. But what they did insist on was some airtime. Until much later that evening, when they were given the 'okay' to move, they wobbled to the disc jockey's workspaces.

The Count and Gavin sat in their seats, taking to the air. News John introduced them back on, and Count began, with a pause for reflection. "Ladies and gentlemen of Great Britain, Abraham Lincoln once said it is a measure of a man that he can admit when he's wronged. And I have been catastrophically wrong." Count passed it on to Gavin, in the studio adjacent to him.

Gavin rasped, "I'd also like to take this opportunity to apologize to a dear friend of mine. Simon." I observed from the doorway how Simon's face tried not to give away too much satisfaction, but his joy of bring recognized and announced on Gavin's behalf put a small smile on his face. "Finally, everything on board is gonna be just…fine."

He winked at me, and my face twisted of its own accord at my confused feelings. I want to be mad, but the circumstances permit otherwise.

When Simon came my way, I halted him, "Just like that?" I was genuinely curious.

He scratched the back of his innocent little head nervously. He knew I expected more, but I could tell he wanted this all to be over. "Well…"

I looked past him to Gavin, who paid no mind to us as he placed the headphones back in their proper place. I pursed my lips. Why couldn't I let go of simple things like Simon?

"Oh all right, you big oaf. Just don't go expecting a changed man over there." I said, motioning to Gavin good-naturedly. I ruffled his hair for effect, and shoved him playfully as I could, given my feelings. Though, I took pleasure in seeing Gavin limping around the ship.

Once this small drama had passed, the talking had quickly switched to my crew getting some airtime. So naturally, the next day, they had set me up with a pair of headphones at Dave's desk. It still bugged me though how everything was quickly forgotten.

Jackie pulled me to the side, a moment before I was about to step inside the studio.

"You can't let them win." She smirked at me knowingly, since I would be decent in my element. "Go on, steal the show." She shooed me away by smacking my back, and I hurried back into the studio, adjusting my mike.

All was quiet on the boat, and everyone observed us both, expressions ranging from amused to knowing, to cringing. Mr. Kavanagh took his starting dramatic breath and began: "Good evening, ladies and gents, and you're back with Gavin on Radio Rock, 203 meters on the medium waveband." Gavin said smoothly. "Now as promised not to long ago, we were to have a special guest, with none other than Pop Wave's Meryl. And she has _so_ graciously joined us to tell us about her first visit with us that happened not too long ago."

"Thanks Gav, and welcome to the first ever _partnership_ between Radio Rock and Pop Wave!" I started. At my words, Gavin whipped his head to me; I could see surprise on his face, even through his sunglasses.

"That was Meryl, everyone, come to join us in the studios. And we will certainly introduce her, shortly after these messages, and the Kinks." He turned on the advertisements and song, and then I could see him glare at me.

"This is still my show." He announced, once he turned his mike off.

"Not while I'm here. The stakes are high, and I'm not letting you feed me to the sharks." I justified. "Wanker." I muttered.

"From now on if you have something to say…don't." He said calmly, gaining more than a couple chuckles than I was comfortable.

"Would someone get a crown for this princess?" I cooed.

"You're in my studio. Sure I wanted you here, but you can't go announcing this as _collaboration_ show time. No, this is supposed to be defeat." He poignantly dropped his fist to the table.

"But that's not very fun." I feigned hurt. "Besides, didn't Quentin agree this was a collab?"

"I said, we'll see!" Quentin shouted.

"Listen girly, we'll be back on air in a few, and I don't want any babbling out of turn." Gavin said.

"So this is _practical_ Gavin."

"Shut up." He snapped.

"Paedophile."

"Bitch."

"Skank."

"Oh, because _you're_ a saint?"

"Herpes."

"I've had no such thing." He was really offended but tried not to show it; I almost dropped my serious mockery and sniggered, but held back.

"Is that a cold sore?" I asked, leaning forward with pretend disgust and curiosity.

He raised his hand to his mouth, but stopped himself. "Alright, that's it. Get that thing out of my studio." Gavin stood.

"Unfortunately for you, I'm in _Dave's_ studio, and I'll be in here, as long as he'll have me."

Dave looked apologetically at Gavin, shrugged and said, "Sorry mate."

"With that being said, I'd like to point out that you two will make charming for radio." Quentin said, opening the door to our adjacent studios.

"My apologies, Quinn." I offered.

"Claws down." He warned me. I thought about that, and figured acting tame would last about a couple minutes.

"They'll love this sort of thing Radio Rock is doing. After all, I heard you guys aren't doing too well either." I tut-ted for effect.

"I just want this over with soon, so that this will all be back to normal."

"We'll see what Quentin says." I threatened. I knew from the first suggestion by Quentin himself that we would be a hit. Gavin and I just had a bit of clashing egos.

I saw Gavin take another one of his dramatic pauses for a raspy entrance, and took the chance for myself, "And you're back with me and Gav."

He clenched his fist, and took a deep breath. "That's right. Now before our short break, for those of you just tuning in, I have Meryl with me, the one and only from Pop Wave. She, along with a few friends are going to…" He had a really short pause, where he was at a loss for words. I could see for a fraction of a second, how he wasn't sure what to say.

"Be airing a couple of shows with them." I tried. "As you know, Pop Wave isn't up and running at the moment, due to some very _minor_ setbacks caused by totally unforeseeable forces." I gave the stank eye to Radio Rock on the sidelines. "So the pirates have _ever so graciously_ agreed to help get us back on our feet. Who would've thought they'd be such thoughtful lads, eh?"

In effort to regain some composure and control, Gavin piped back in, "With that explained, Meryl, why don't you tell the rest of Britain how we came to meet?"

I chuckled, not quite sure how to moderate this. "Well, it certainly wasn't normal. I didn't just go up and introduce myself."

"Yes, yes, get to the good parts." Gavin hurried me, very excited indeed.

"I—" I looked down at my lap, anticipating any and all embarrassment, "I snuck onto the ship."

There was a pause, partially for shock, the rest for humour.

"Well that's certainly not the version I was told." Gavin said, leaning in.

"It's the truth."

"And may you tell us why you would do that? Not jealousy, I hope."

"I wanted to… spy on the pirates." I tapped my foot. That was the thing about being a disc jockey: you could never really tell what other people were thinking, not without an audience in front of you. "So when I went to leave, I injured myself, rendering myself incapable of leaving."

Gavin was grinning his ass off. "And how did you get onto the boat?"

"Icamewiththecontestwinners." I mumbled.

"I'm sorry?"

I cleared my throat, "Back when you held the contest for a chance to come and visit, I felt compelled this would have been the opportune moment. But as we all know karma is not the nicest of things."

"Luck was never on your side."

"Thank you, Gavin!" I exclaimed falsely.

"And I understand that during your stay, your sister, Marlow, the supermodel came to pay a visit."

"Whore." I said subtly through coughs. I knew not a lot of people could have heard that.

"After the break, let's have a nice chat about her, why don't we?" He flicked on the Beatles, and turned off his mike, "You know, you should really fix that cold of yours."

"Shut up." I stuck out my tongue.

Much, much later, the segment of my embarrassment ended, with my dignity all scraped up. I explained as much as I could without dishonouring Radio Rock for some reason; I didn't tell a thing about what they did our ship, lest it hurt a bit of their fan base. I suppose it's a sort of way of helping them. Well, not only that, I wasn't about to rat out my only source of being on air. It might be rude to call them a stepping-stone.

"That wasn't so bad." Molly said unconvincingly.

"Right." Justice rolled her eyes, and patted to the open seat on the couch to her right. I sat.

"It was terrible, wasn't it?" I asked, leaning into Justice's shoulder.

"Yeah." They both said honestly.

"That even hurt _me_." Justice said. She knew she was tough, so this was saying something. "We sounded pathetic."

Gavin waltzed into the lounge where we were sitting, off to the kitchen, but stopped to comment, "Quentin's right; you make _lovely_ for radio."

"Get back to the kitchen." I quipped, and folded my arms across my chest. Though we both knew that stung me.

Felicity came by with a tray of snacks, and set it on the coffee table. She looked at me sympathetically. "Simon's looking for one of you to fill in with him tomorrow, just for some fun." She looked pointedly at me, which I figured would make me feel better, since I knew Simon was a gent.

"Yus." I said, the moment Felicity left. I was savvy enough to know Simon was the most polite of them all, aside from Carl, but he was never on air. But then I started to think about Bob. Would it be a "breach of contract" if I wanted to be on air with him? I mean, sure I would hate to be on that late, but if it meant _not_ listening to Kavanagh all day, I might actually survive.

So I approached Quentin. "Hey."

"What do you want?" it wasn't mean the way he said it, just to the point.

"No one exactly said anything about who I had to broadcast with, right?" I gave the cutest grin I could muster, but I could only picture myself looking like the Cheshire cat on ecstasy.

"Your point?"

"Well, I was thinking…"

"Oh lord."

"…That maybe if Bob didn't mind, I could broadcast with him." It sounded like a question, not like I was hoping.

His eyebrows raised a little, incredulity radiating off him. "You can't hide for long. But we'll see."

I knew instantly he wasn't out to get me, like some of the others, to see me, but he knew he had some sort of duty to his crew.

"We'll let you for a while, but I want to see how your first show affected the ratings."

For the next days, I'd spent nice quiet early mornings down in Bob's humble abode, picking out music for him, and only introducing certain songs, since it was relatively silent. And I had some trouble getting a calm radio voice. I wasn't one to lull people to sleep.

"Hey Bob, how did you get into radio?" I asked one night, while a particularly gloomy song was playing. Only a few days had passed since I'd been on the radio, and from that time I only made a bit more slightly successful broadcasts alongside Gavin, Angus and Simon.

"What? Oh…" He was deep in thought, "Well, I only started my job here a little under a year ago. I mean, I worked a little for one other station, but I've—this is still pretty new."

"Bob, Bob. I'm not your mother. I'm not twelve. It's okay, don't hold out on me." I reassured him, and was about to listen, but I remembered something about the jeans I was wearing. "I'll tell you what Bob. I only pull these out on _extra special_ occasions." I pulled it out of my small front pocket, and unrolled the gum wrapper that encased it, and then pulled out my lighter.

I lit it and took a toke, and then handed it off to Bob's tentative hands.

"Come on, a guy like you? Not trying?" I knew he'd definitely tried before. It was this stupid age barrier.

Before he knew it, he was talking away.

"You fucking stud." I said, after a while, he told me about his sexual endeavours, but sort of keeping it appropriate.

He chuckled, and leaned back into his chair and quickly introduced another song, before coming back to our conversation, "So that was about the time when I was nineteen."

"And after that?"

"Well I tried that whole settle down for a bit in my thirties."

"And how'd that work out?"

"Three divorced wives and five children."

I sucked in air, with disapproval, "Oh, Bob!" But I was a bit surprised. "Is that all?"

He counted with both his hands, and I could tell he really didn't know.

"Anyways, so you came to be on this ship _how_?"

"Well I met Quentin back in the day, we were still both young. Well not you young, but I still had my hair trimmed, and we had managed to get out of the war alive. Christ, we were barmy, Meryl. Quentin still can't remember anything from the forties."

"So he got you a slot?" I leaned up a bit.

"He wanted on the clock hours, and called me up from… Cor, where was I?" He didn't ponder for long, seeming to accept that he probably would never remember, "But he gave me a ring and said he needed a guy for the early, early mornings."

"And now you're stuck here with the biggest blokes in all of the world."

"Wouldn't change a thing. The music makes all the difference."

"Ah, but before…those must have been the days." I said, and went to lie on the comfortable carpeted floor.

"No." He said soberly and cleared his throat.

"What's that?" I asked lazily.

"Today's good. The kids. The music."

"Nah, I'm pretty fucked." I said, settling my hands under my head, and propping my feet up on the chair he was sitting on.

"You don't give yourself any credit." He finished off the blunt, and handed back the roach.

"My whole life I've been called selfish. And irresponsible."

"But free." He said wistfully. It scared me how he was so deep. He's probably so used to talking when he's like this.

"Bob. How old are you?" I asked.

"Fifty-two." Yep, lots of experience.

"Huh…" I shrugged, "You know, you're alright." I stayed awake with him until the sun rose, and I dozed a bit.

In the morning, Bob went off to bed, where I knew it was probably quiet. But me, on the other hand, with Simon's booming voice, I couldn't get to sleep, so I fought my body to get to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. Normally I didn't drink coffee either, but I hear it helps. And I've been doing a lot of things I wouldn't normally do anyways.

"I don't know anyone who would go to bed that early to wake up for this like Simon." I said, turning Simon's voice down on the radio in the lounge. I face planted into Molly's shoulder.

"When's the last time you saw _your_ mum?" She joked.

"_My_ mum is probably better off thinking she has one child. The pretty one. With the successful modelling career." I said, letting my tiredness get the better of me.

"Pretty indeed." Gavin jabbed, but it had become the norm for everyone to poke fun at each other.

"Speaking of your Mum, Ferguson, she sent in a very lovely worded letter. It's for you." Quentin said, holding a prim envelope, with the top ajar.

"You read it?"

"Oops." He said, handed me a letter, and strode away.

When I read it, I couldn't be more surprised at the content. Typical fawning mother, though I wasn't on the receiving end of that affection. This was just _perfect_ for an early morning.

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I had a hectic summer job :P  
>BUT PLEASE REVIEW it warms my heart…<strong>

**-Sage94**


	9. Awe Rats

Chapter 9: Awe, Rats

_Dear Meryl,_

_I was very pleased to hear your voice over the radio. It brought me great pleasure to know that you supported your sister's accomplishments for once. I'm sure she also appreciated the nod. Personally, she should get her own interview, but my dear, you're very much capable of filling her place, though not the first choice. I'm just glad you've gotten yourself onto a more popular ship, no pun intended. Pop Wave just wasn't as successful as you deserve anyways. Nevertheless I should enjoy seeing you and your sister very soon, maybe the New Year? If her busy schedule permits. _

_Ciao, from your loving mother,_

_Caroline Forget_

I shivered in disgust. For one, of course it had everything to do with Marlow, second, not once did she ask me any personal questions about my well-being (not that that was something I had come to expect), and thirdly, I could just picture her saying her maiden name in that ridiculous phony French accent she had "acquired" while Marlow had taken her on a trip to France for a runway show.

"Vomit-worthy?" Molly asked sympathetically.

"Nevermind vomiting." I said quietly (while thinking of much worse reactions worthy of this), just to Molly and Justice, and handed it off for them to read.

"Ouch." Justice was the faster reader.

"Thanks for this Quentin." I mumbled to him, and he gave a smug smirk and a nod in return, before going back to his office.

"Uh, girls, we're about to have a quick game of football, care to watch?" Harold asked nervously, very aware he was interrupting a moment. But I didn't mind.

"Screw watching." Justice said, leaping up to get to the deck. Again, I can't be offended by her offhandedness about my issues, when she's a very strong person with an equally strong sense of what's right and wrong.

"Sorry to hear about that, Mer." Molly said about the letter, and followed Justice upstairs, though she wasn't as enthusiastic about sports like Justice.

"Sure thing, Harold." I assured him, and strolled upstairs with him.

Watching them play together was perhaps more fun than participating. It's not that I wasn't good a sports, I just never liked them much. So this was all in Justice's area of expertise, being a competitive player before she joined radio and dropped out of university.

Sure enough, with these pale and gangly boys tripping around on deck, football didn't last long.

"Everyone, this is our last ball so please be careful!" Angus stressed. "Kevin, you're kicker."

As expected, somehow Kevin buggered up by kicking the ball overboard for the second time, and everyone rounded on him. And tried to strip him. Which was odd.

It was a lazy day, and the lot of us hadn't much to do. Molly was talking quietly about her airtime with Mark, and then about other things with him I'd rather not have heard. And since the boys started to get rather boring, Molly thought up the lovely idea of sunbathing in front of them.

I decided not to have fun with that, by choosing to remain mostly clothed in a long shirt and shorts, but I did encourage it, since my friends had a certain effect on the men, who were equally as eager to bathe in the sun. Molly and Justice were put further on display, since we were on the upper deck overlooking them, and waving flirty and all.

"Don't do that to them unless you're going to actually sleep with them." I warned, while looking at one of Felicity's magazines. I wasn't one for the clothing and all, but I did like to keep an eye on my favourite bands. "Oh, fuck." I said suddenly, dropping the magazine.

"What's wrong?" Molly said, picking up the magazine.

"She's on the best dressed list." I muttered disgustedly.

"Let's just get…get rid of that." Justice threw it away.

"Say, Meryl, are you sure you and your sister aren't on speaking terms?" Dave said from below. He was looking at the magazine that Justice had tossed down. There was just no escaping Marlow's shadow. Her smile graced the pages of the magazine where it was thrown face-up.

In attempts to get sports back into their schedule, the pirates tried to round up a game of basketball with everyone against Count, minus us on the upper deck, who observed and cheered with amusement. Jackie and the other girls were inside, probably relaxing, finding the rest of us very tiresome; only Thelma came out to join us.

* * *

><p>I eventually left my friends to join Carl down on the lower deck, myself being slightly more confident around the guys.<p>

"You sure that throwing him in is the best way of getting' him to learn how to swim?" Dave asked, as him and Count swung Angus by his wrists and ankles, intending to throw him overboard.

"Absolutely." Count confirmed,

"Okay." And with that, Angus was wailing pathetically through the air, and making feeble attempts at staying afloat.

"Ah!" He squealed like a dying kitty.

"You know, on second thought, that might be just for kids." Count said, not at all worried for the man below.

"I can't touch the bottom." I shook my head and leaned over the rail to look down on him.

"Yeah, that's right, throw a baby in, it floats. Instinctively natural. It's a beautiful thing." Count said matter-of-factly. "I think if you throw in an adult… doesn't work that way."

"Care to join him? I mean you probably have the best experience swimming." Dave offered to me, recalling my last trip in the water.

"Someone's gotta get him back up." And he could've just asked if he wanted to see me in a bathing suit.

I took off my shirt and shorts, and jumped into the cold waters. I dragged the Nut back to the boat, where the ladder was and he cleared his throat.

"Erm, thanks." He said quietly. Obviously he didn't like that he had to be saved.

* * *

><p>Later that night, everyone had settled down, and we went to sit under the stars for a drink and a little circle to… get to know each other better.<p>

"Deprivation." Dave said. Everyone agreed it would be the game to play, as it was pretty well shocking.

"Not us," Justice said and giggled, and then stood, leaving me to sit beside Angus, with Thick Kevin to my right.

"I've had a bit too much to drink to let you fool me into playing." Molly added, and they strolled drunkenly inside. I could tell she had almost everyone's eyes trailing after her. She did happen to dress very immodestly while intoxicated.

Then I thought to the women already inside; I couldn't understand how Jackie couldn't be having the time of her life here, since this was her element, apart from the men. I mean; even Quentin wasn't out here to irk her.

Count started us off, "Umm, okay, I got you limeys beat: I have never had a sexual dream featuring a member of the royal family. Raise your hand if you have been as equally deprived."

"Princess Margaret." Everyone naturally agreed. "Prince Charles," I added. He wasn't the best looking fellow, but dreams are fucked up anyways.

"Well done, full house." Dave said. Everyone congratulated him on a good pick. "Felicity." Dave said, so she got to pick the next one.

"I have never had sex with a man." She stated, giving little thought. When she saw there wasn't much response, she said, "Oh, I didn't think that was a very good one…" I didn't think it very good either, until I saw that Angus beside me didn't raise his hand.

He growled in defeat. He gained a laugh from us all, "Tell us!"

"Damnit." He said.

"Sorry." Felicity apologized.

"Uh, okay." He took a deep breath, aware of his 'shame', "It was at school, obviously. Who hasn't, eh?"

"Uh, me." Most of the boys chorused.

"Okay, except you guys. It was just once!" he tried to appease, "His name was Jackman."

"Of course his name was Jackman." Count teased.

"Yeah, you can laugh, but actually he was something of a god."

"You know I bet he was." Felicity supported sweetly.

"In the Upper Fifth." He added, as if it helped his decision. I sort of admired Angus in a weird way. He was a pretty good sport about this all. Even though people mocked him, and he certainly wasn't done being the butt of jokes from here on out, he accepted that. Not with grace, but with a 'let's face it' attitude.

"Sadly, that means you only get one point. One point for Felicity." Dave said, the regulator of the game.

"Meryl?" I looked around when Count spoke. Then with stunning realization it found it was I; I had my hand raised. Everyone was looking at me.

"What?" I asked and shifted uncomfortably in my seat, while lowering my arm.

"Do tell." Dave said, leaning in closer.

"Is there a problem if I haven't?" I asked, though not too concerned about it. "And don't look at me like that!" I pushed Angus's shoulder, but wished I had a curtain surrounding me.

"Besides, I only just turned eighteen." I received a lot of disapproving stares, and shaking of the heads.

"No shame in celibacy." I wasn't sure who said that, for giggles followed, making hardly possible to figure it out, but I slapped my face with my palm anyways.

"Right." Count rolled his eyes at the previous comment.

"Alright everyone, next question!" I hurried it along, trying to get attention past me.

I tried to ignore the random glances I'd get, most of them confused. To be honest, I was also surprised I hadn't lost it by now.

It was then Gavin's turn, and his started out rather odd: "Right, bit of a strange one, this. I've never been on a date with a girl—" People started to laugh. "Wait, wait!" Everyone shut up. "And after sex, thought she wouldn't notice if I let go a bit of wind. Did so, and realized it wasn't wind… It was diarrhea."

"Yuck." I groaned. That was _way_ more embarrassing than my story, I thought for sure people would forget about it.

"So I've never been in bed with the girl of my dreams with poo all over the sheets behind me. Raise your hands, anyone who has not done that."

"No way." Angus said, also glad attention was off him.

I looked around after I raised my hand; this story sounded awfully specific and slandering. The only defeated person left, without their hand raised was Dave. The remorse I tried to show in my laugh didn't seem to make Dave feel any better.

"Yoouuu bastard, man." He accused.

"What? I didn't tell anyone." Gavin said defensively, but very much guilty.

"You did that?" Carl asked Dave.

"Yeah…" He replied painfully.

"What did you do?"

"Well I told her that my wife would be home in five minutes… So she left."

"So you got away with it."

"It's a grey area…" Dave squirmed.

"Tell em'," Gavin egged on, and was on the edge of his seat, causing the rest of us to do so.

"The problem being that my wife then came home…" I was laughing my arse off, "and I got into quite a lot of trouble for pooing in the bed… at four o'clock in the afternoon." Laughter echoed over the waters, and we probably woke up anyone inside.

Everyone had his or her turn, and I was the last to go, "Meryl, dying to hear your turn." Dave said, still unhappy.

"I haven't quite got a good one." I thought out loud. "Felicity stole mine…" I received quite a bit of laughter, "hmm, how about… I have never finished school."

I didn't expect that one to be very good, but I was always interested to know who was educated or not.

Dave, Count and Kevin's hands weren't raised, and my attention was whipped to Kevin immediately.

"Primary doesn't count, Kev." Carl said, and I was glad he said it before I did.

"Oh, right." He raised his hand.

* * *

><p>The next day at lunch, I was on my way to visit with Simon, when Gavin stopped me in the hall. He had this outraged expression, and a very disbelieved air about him. I knew what he was here to talk about.<p>

_Sorry Carl_. I winced before Gavin began, since he wasn't here to listen to my apology. Maybe Carl lost a couple respect points for last night.

"You didn't sleep with Carl?" He asked.

"I should have just kept my hand down." I muttered.

"What were you two doing?" Gavin asked suspiciously.

"Christ." I sunk into the wall. "Nothing, okay? It was just for fun, we were playing cards."

"But why pretend?"

"I don't have to explain anything to you." I said sternly, while crossing my arms.

"Now that statement leaves a lot to be assumed."

"Shut up. It's because my effing sister came here, alright?"

"Jealousy?" Gavin suggested knowingly, and leaned in.

"It's not jealousy. It's that if you're going to piss me off by getting with my sister—Oh come on, don't say you weren't angry when I pretend-slept with Carl."

"I was angrier when I thought you had the guts to do it. Now I know you don't have it in you." He said smugly.

"Hey, that's not a fair. Maybe you must have been glad to be rid of _yours_ when you were young, because you were too insecure to find a girl to stay with longer than five minutes, but not me. But hey, that must have been quite some time ago for you."

He took a deep breath. "Still." I could tell he held back an angry tone.

"This boat doesn't exactly spell romantic. I'm living on a boat full of imbeciles."

"Ouch. That's not something nice to say about Carl."

"Still." I said pointedly, going back to my previous assertion.

"Plenty of time to change your mind. If not Carl, then there's rest of us, eh luv? Not one catches your eye yet?" He asked, stepping closer.

"Oh, you pig." I said, and pushed him away with a roll of my eyes.

I sat in the studio the next morning with Simon, preparing for hit chart show. Gavin had been giving me the silent treatment after yesterday, which probably made me feel worse, since I didn't have to be on air that day either.

During his show, Simon was happy as usual, and I probably sounded stoned, since I hadn't fully awakened, but he managed to get my spirits going with his cute antics.

"And this next song by the Rolling Stones, is a particular favourite. Sing along if you know how it goes," I turned on the record, and Get off of my Cloud came on.

I started to dance in the studio getting Simon in his to move a bit. I wouldn't say I'm a dancer at all, but I do have a habit of making people catch onto it. I'd like to think that maybe people felt better about dancing around me, because they knew they had to be at least a little better at dancing.

By the end, I received a nice applause from Harold and Kevin sitting in the background. I gave a courteous bow to them, but hesitated when I saw Gavin skulking in the back, behind the couches, and by the exit, his arrogant chin jutted. Jutted, like he normally was, but in his odd way, reserved. He seemed perturbed by either me, or the air. I didn't like to think it was me, I'm not too vain... I think.

We passed off the show to Dave, and I walked out to approach him.

"What do you want?" I asked, but very politely, though he knew I wanted to be rude.

"Got a bit of news for you two. There's a team meeting in the lounge area regarding the ratings."

I gave Simon our traditional high-five for after every show, and we followed Gavin back to the lounge.

"Alright, everyone, quiet down. Some very good news. All of our listeners have been tuning in, and we even gained some others with the arrival of Meryl and her lot." He bowed to us, "Now, we tried out more than a few combinations for the broadcasting, and I have the list for pairings, based on how you were rated with each other. We not only took polls from the advertisers, but also the very crucial opinion of the listeners."

I immediately ripped the page out of his hands, very anxious to know how Simon and me did. I liked being around that guy. I didn't feel like I was constantly going to be insulted into oblivion. With careful and hopeful eyes, I searched, but on paper, this wasn't the case. I rolled my eyes, and handed it off to Thelma, who was standing anxiously next to me. She had been paired up with Dave for most of the week.

"Oh, Dave, we did wonderfully!" She exclaimed, and ran to his side, bouncing on the spot. Dave was also as enthusiastic, because she wore particularly low-cut shirts, and they got along well enough.

"And here are some of the reviews sent in by some of the Radio Rock fans." Jackie said, and emptied a large canvas sac onto the floor, creating a pile of envelopes.

Justice took a look at it, and raised an eyebrow, when the pairing of choice for her was the Count. At least her partner was bearable.

"What about Bob and Simon? Didn't we get on well?" I asked Quentin.

"Advertisers say they liked the… animosity you two brought to the table. They used the word 'refreshing.'"

"Well they can suck my refresh—" I stopped my muttering, and thought about how this wasn't all bad. "This doesn't mean I have to stick with him, right?"

"Certainly not. Bob still has an opening." I sighed in relief. "Unfortunately, you shall have to do both, if we are to upkeep our skyrocketing ratings." My sigh was cut short.

"Rats."

"Not to worry dear, I'll take good care of you." Gavin said, once having read the paper, and saluted me.

"I'll bet you'd like that." I grumbled.

"See? I can tell this is going to be a perfect arrangement." Quentin said sarcastically.

Once everyone had settled into the pairings, I started to read some of the fan mail.

"More of Gavin and Meryl." I kept reading over and over.

A velvety voice interrupted my inner discussion, "So shall we get to _preparing_ for the first show together."

"Bugger off," I said, making it look like I was reading with extra intent.

Gavin bent down and picked up a letter from the pile where I discarded all of the ones that had to do with him and me. "They'd have something to say about that. Come now, be a good sport."

"Approach me when you've grown a pair." I said, still trying to rifle through the envelopes in hopes of finding something readable, and also trying to look busy.

"In fact I have." He began, and I gave him a skeptical stare. "Would you like to see?"

"Fuck off." I said, and ripped his feathered fedora off of his head, launching it towards the exit.

"Temper." He warned, before prancing off like the overly proud buck he was.

**Wah, sorry this chapter took forever… but um… I was having bad writers block, and then feeling guilty about not exactly keeping up to date with all of my other stories, which **_**do**_** in fact deserve my attention. Because I've only finished one out of the seven I have written. Alas, this, Pirate Radio fanfiction, has captured my concentration, and I'd prefer finishing this one to my others. It's just the brilliance of the film.**

**Was anyone else appalled by the poor ratings of the film? Aaaand how all the awesome scenes are in DELETED SCENES. **

-**anyways, please review, because I've worked extra hard on this chapter, since most of it was under intense scrutiny concerning the content. **

**Love Sage94**

**ps. Fuck my rambling, sorry… and I swear to get back to normal plot either in this chapter or the next… worst case is in three chapters.**


	10. Sick

Chapter 10: Sick

Of course, things went according to schedule. Basically, everyone was paired, and everyone had airtime, except for Bob, who had airtime, but with whom no one really expressed interest in what with his early timeslot. Unfortunately, Frankie and Angus were also alone, but Frankie chose to keep to herself rather than associate herself, and secretly confided in Jackie and Quentin to get in on behind the scenes, or get in on Bob's airing. So naturally everyone but Angus passed the uncomfortable story around that no one wanted to pair up with him. Poor guy. But the sympathy I feel for him isn't that great, seeing as how if I really didn't want to broadcast with Gavin, then I'd have to go with him, or not broadcast at all. I'm good where I am.

When I woke up late one morning after a particularly gripping conversation on air with Gavin about censorship, I saw Simon sitting alone, already done his early morning shift, and sipping his regular tea.

"Hey big fellow, how're you doing?" I asked, coming to sit beside him none too gracefully, not that I cared.

He didn't answer right away, so I could tell he was in one of his moods.

"D'you need to talk about it?" I asked.

"I'll be okay." His unconvincing smile did not prompt me to leave.

"Maybe you're alright with Gavin, but that doesn't mean you're not hurting. I'm going to ask you again: want to talk about it?"

He didn't answer me, but instead rose out of his seat to dispose of his cup and saucer. I could see his profile, which was trying to keep the annoyance out of it.

I stared dumbfounded after him, not sure I'd ever been walked out on before. Ever.

Count walked by, and double take and I couldn't fix my expression fast enough. He laughed.

"Shut up."

"Whatever dude, I was just going to say that that look suits you."

I glared at him, causing him to skulk away, checking behind him to see if I was coming to beat him. Which I was tempted to do.

Later on air, Quentin came in towards the end with a bit of better news while me and Gavin were broadcasting, Just a couple minutes ago, Gavin embarrassed Dave nationally, by telling the poo story; and why should I stop that, it's not like Dave saved my ass anytime recently.

"Yes, unfortunately for the government, they have fallen short with coming up with ways of shutting us down. Meaning, we have more support than ever, if it went to a referendum." He said, opening the door, and raising his eyebrows in amazement, still.

Of course we had to announce this once the Eagles turned down: "Yes that was beautiful, and we're back on pubic air. Radio Rock, two-oh-three meters on the medium waveband."

"And whatever you do, don't tell Dr. Dave we told you about the infamous poo story." I said.

"It's Gavin and Meryl here, and what a year it's been. Government plans to undermine us have failed spectacularly! In fact, says recent poles that ninety-three percent of British people would vote for the Pirates… rather than the government!"

"This is why!" I said, putting on 'My Generation'.

Quickly, everyone in the studio said their farewells and we signed off. And when the excitement died down, my anticipation didn't. I still had something I wanted to do.

I came up nervously to a certain someone's door, and knocked.

"Mark?" I didn't wait for an answer, since he didn't speak much anyways. I opened the door, and Dave was sitting on his bed, they were clearly hanging out, "Uh, could I have a word alone with Mark, Doc?"

"For the lady." Dave said over courteously. I waited for the door to close behind him to start.

"I've been thinking about all of this pressure." I said timidly, while going further into his cabin. He was writing at his desk, and turned away from the playlist he was creating to look up at me, questioningly seductive, which I'm sure he never knew the full extent of that look. "And I've also been thinking about how this isn't that worth it. And you know a lot about this kind of thing. So I was going to ask you for a favour…?"

Mark set down his cigarette and pencil, blew out his smoke ever so casually and gestured to the bed.

"Right." I muttered. I sat on the edge, not quite sure how to go about this. Mark rose from his seat and sauntered over, and sat beside me.

"And this doesn't have to be a big deal, right?" I asked, while unbuttoning the top of my shirt. "Do you want to do this?" I asked unsure, and paused.

He placed a calm hand on my thigh, and said the one word I needed: "Relax."

I leaned back into the pillows, and unbuttoned the rest of my shirt, and discarded it. Mark helped me undo my trousers, and they slid off easily.

While I was basically naked, Mark still had on his leather trousers. He was holding himself over me, in a plank, ready for the word. His bare chest above me, which before I had never minded at all, had seemed of more importance now.

"How about it—" His question was cut short by an abrupt knock to the door.

"Oi, you lot, Simon wants to see Caroline."

"It's Meryl, Dave." I shouted back, the tension between me and Mark now dissipated.

"Could you excuse me?" I whispered to Mark, pushing him lightly off of me, "Maybe some other time, eh? Sorry, there's just something I have to take care of with Simon." I put on all my clothes, carefully putting in back into place and bolted out the door, very sure I didn't seem like I just almost got laid.

"Is he in his room?" I asked, keeping the rush out of my voice expertly.

"Yep."

It took a lot out of me to not jog down the halls to find out what he wanted.

"You rang?" I asked as nonchalant as possible, after I opened up his door.

"Oh, yeah, you can leave the door open, I won't be long."

"Yeah, I was in the middle of something." Not that I wanted to exactly get back to it, I just wanted to sound taken. God I sound pathetic in my head.

"Right, I won't keep you." He said in his little Irish voice. "I, uh, just wanted to apologize for earlier."

"What of it?"

"Well, I know I've not been too friendly, and I can't blame everyone around me…"

His sorry attempts at an apology made me pipe in, "It's alright, Simon. I should've just left you alone." I turned away, fully satisfied that he was sorry for before, and that I could still invoke guilt in people.

But something happened that I did not expect. He pulled me back by my wrist, and stood, quickly kissing my cheek, I hardly felt it.

Something so unexpected, all I could say was, "What?" once again today, he left me dumbfounded.

"Oh fiddlesticks." He nervously twiddled his thumbs, and pulled away as quickly as he had came.

I still stood there, allowing an array of confused looks cross my face. Maybe it looked like I was bipolar, maybe not.

"Yeah, um…" I left thinking, _oh not him too_. I quickly left his room, not feeling quite as satisfied as before the peck on the cheek.

By the next day, I hadn't really avoided Simon, but I could tell _he_ was avoiding me. I felt sort of ashamed of myself; I must be leading people on somehow. I gotta stop being like that.

"Say Dave, pass the salt." I said. We were all eating Saturday supper while Simon was broadcasting the rest of the chart show.

"The lady asked nicely." He passed it to me.

Molly and Justice were on the other side of the table, suspiciously looking up at me every now and then.

I chewed the last of my ham, and dropped my fork with finality. "Ok, what?" I asked. They can't have known about Mark already.

"Nothing." Molly said nervously.

"We might as well tell her." Justice argued.

"Tell me!" I declared in a very frivolous tone.

"Justice, don't." Molly said, as Justice shot a magazine at me that she'd been holding under the table.

It landed on its back, over my empty plate. I flipped it over, and sunk my head down, hitting the table.

"The Fergusons get around, don't they?" Dave said, to my left. I smacked my head a few more times on the table, for further emphasis.

My sister graced the cover, on the arm of none other than Mick Jagger. The tabloids drenched the picture with bizarre headings, "Secret wedding?" yeah, right. First, she had about as much commitment as my mum and dad. Maybe less than half of that. I maybe saw a new boyfriend every week when we were young. I'll give this fling one other magazine cover. However I perked up a bit after that, because I wanted Gavin to see this too.

As if on cue, he arrived late for supper as per usual, and I handed it straight to him. He took it without much thought as to who gave it to him, and read it on the way to an open seat. I could tell from the silence that he was either debating whether to like Mick Jagger, or be mad at my sister, or vice versa. The only problem is, is that he has his darn sunglasses on.

"Oh isn't it just wonderful? Maybe I'll go ashore to visit the family." I stated jovially.

There was an awkward silence where I thought I'd won, and Felicity brought out a plate for Gavin.

He took a long breath of arrogance, and spoke: "I reminded her time and time again when we were together that once she had me, she'd _go_ more places."

I held back a scoff of disbelief; he was really trying to play this off (quite well, I suppose). "Please, like you have anything to do with this."

"Er, Meryl," Kevin began slowly, "You don't suppose that you and your sister are fighting still, do you?"

"Shut up Kev." I muttered, but everyone laughed anyways, knowing all to well there was a very slim chance I would set aside any differences soon.

"I suppose we could hold up the ship while you're away." Count suggested lightly.

"I said, shut up."

By the early morning, I had finished a set with Bob, and he was readying to hand it off to Simon.

"Bob, what are your thoughts on this whole Mick Jagger incident?" I asked him, helping him put his tracks away.

"Sounds to me like you need to pay a visit with your sister." I could register a hint of sarcasm.

"Funny."

"In some ways, no."

"Do tell." I said, rolling my eyes, and sitting back down on the couch.

"Well, you have terrible people skills. Who better to sharpen them on than your own flesh and blood?"

"Gruesome." I commented, but did foolishly once upon a time wished my sister would pay attention to me for once.

"And why not be acquainted with your own kin. You play the Stones at least twice a day, so why not give it a shot?"

"One dinner won't do me any harm." I was half-joking because I could never picture myself beside the Stones, along with my sister. Oil and vinegar. "I'll give it a thought."

By the time everyone else had rose, most people had heard of the half attempt in Mark's room. Well, it was mainly clear to the people who didn't matter: Count, Gavin, Angus, Quentin and Mark himself.

I gained some disapproving stares from Quentin throughout the day, though I don't know why. Several other people had definitely slept with the pirates, though I was somehow the most disappointing for him to hear about. I'm sorry I'm not going to be a saint. Because I was one in every other way? Right.

Gavin, though, cornered me before I could get over actually thinking for a moment I would try to lose it to Mark, as skilled as he may be.

I was leaning over our collection for some picks for our show; no one else was in the studio yet. I could feel his presence looming behind me.

"What?" I asked critically, not deviating from my work.

"Why did you choose him?" he asked in a mock of exasperation.

"Almost." I corrected.

"I would be as good as any." He reminded. Gavin liked to do that; constantly remind everyone, as the rest of the pirates did, of his sexual prowess. Like everyone would be willing without a thought.

"I had given you a thought." I said. I could sense, that though I was turned, he had a triumphant look on his face. "But then, I probably thought of Dave before you." I knew that razzed him.

"You have thought about it before though." His voice was then right by my ear, prickling the skin.

I gave an involuntary sigh, and fumbled with the tracks on the shelf.

I could sense Gavin pause, as if to look around, before returning his breath to the side of my head. Not once did I move, nor was I frozen to the spot. I felt a hand creep to my hip tentatively, and hook itself in my belt loop, straining the trousers downward. I slowly placed my own hand over his, and lowered it. But in my relent, his hand only travelled to my thigh. Inwardly it went, until I gasped, pulling away from the hot breath and lean hands.

A grin plastered to his face, and the moment of what I thought was fervour, turned to humiliation as I realized he was not looking down at me, but at the couch behind the glass, where Dave sat, casually giving a clap.

I whipped to face Gavin, raised my eyebrow, and punched his arm and picked my things back up, storming to my seat. "You're sick."

I instantly regretted moving into the same cubicle at Gavin the week earlier, for cooperation purposes; it was apparently less interesting a show when we were separate.

I sat in my seat, the floor having to endure the anger of my toes clenching and my face burning with embarrassment as I waited for the hour to commence. It was going to be a long one.

"Gav?" I called, hearing Count handing it off from the other studio.

"Eager, are we?" His smirk sent a shiver by my ear. I clenched my hand in disgust.

By the time we were done, it was suppertime and I was glad to be rid of the thoughts that came out of Gavin being in such close proximity. But something odd had happened during that show. I had tried to not let it get to me, but it sounded like he had slipped in a word inappropriate for air. I thought I'd heard—actually I'm not quite sure what I'd heard, but it wasn't his usual crude slander, it was trickier.

In fact, the more I thought about it, I realized that all the other DJ's made odd slipups similarly. I'll definitely have to ask.

I grabbed a plate of spaghetti from the kitchen, and went to sit at my customary seat, next to Carl.

"How was _your_ day Carl?" I asked brightly, with a touch of sarcasm.

"Clearly not as good as yours." His statement was becoming more of an inquiry.

"I am going mad. It's wonderful." I said, just as jovially as before.

Dave sat at the table, looking smug, along with Count, who looked like he was trying to hold something in. He just needed a prodding to get the secret out of him, whatever it was, because he was brimming with some sort of challenge.

"Count, what's up?" I asked.

"Only _un défi,_ as the French would say." He said triumphantly.

"What is it?" Justice said intensely, leaning in over her plate. The rest of my crew's interest was piqued.

"Well, my ladies, you may or may have not noticed all throughout your stay, inconspicuous sayings during the shows." Although, I sort of caught wind of what he was saying, everyone else's faces were wrinkled in confusion.

Simon piped in excitedly, "Every day, he gives one of us a word, and we have to try and sneak it in during our airtime." His excitement was partially halted when we locked eyes. But the message had been sent.

My crew was in on it, especially Justice, but Molly looked wary. Although she was not at all conservative in the bedroom (Justice's stories, not mine), she was iffy about it, from what I could tell.

This would be interesting.

**As always, please review! especially since this story is a bit of a whim.**

**-Sage94**


	11. Bet

**I don't really know what to say about the lateness, other than blatant excuses. Thanks to vanillalady56 for reminding me i have a duty  
><strong>**also, this chapter is just mostly fun, nothing too action-ey**

Chapter 11: Bet

"_Alors, Mesdames_, you will be receiving your very simple words of the day tomorrow morning." Dave said, adding his odd way of including French vocabulary.

"How did Count say this worked again?" Molly asked.

"Each day, you get a word, and they get harder as the week goes by." The Count said from afar, startling us, because he was sitting across the room and we were speaking lowly, not really wanting to sound like amateurs. Which was pointless really, we hardly got any respect anyways.

We tried to look inconspicuous, but everyone was chuckling at our anxiety. The Count was a tough one to beat. Molly ended up leaving to record, and Dave followed, but only because you could really tell he wanted to bang her. Let's face it; she wouldn't be as resistant.

I was sitting by myself playing solitaire ironically, when Count came by with a cigarette and two full beers.

"Well hello mate!" I exclaimed, happy for the beer more than the company.

"God, I can't get over your stupid accents."

"They ain't stupid." I said in a decent western accent.

"_Touché_." He said, finally sitting beside me, and handed me the beer. "So, want to play fifty-two pick up?" He asked.

I eyed him lazily, "Dave already tried that one last week. Was not amused."

"Fair enough. So I heard about you and Mark."

I snorted, and put down my beer, almost knocking it over. Absolutely no subtlety, which is something I guess I could respect.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." I said simply.

"That's not what he said."

"It's hard to believe Mark would _say_ anything." I mentioned with a smirk. I was not at all surprised that the boys would exaggerate something like this.

"Well?" He said expectantly. I was still a little iffy about him; he, after all, was the first to accept Gavin back into the crew. I mean, I'll live, but it was a little sore of a subject.

"I asked him if he would sleep with me." I said, trying to relax.

"Did you?" he leaned in, and he smelled of cigarettes and booze. Typical.

I started, "Well no, didn't he tell you that?" He paused, and smiled while looking away; obviously a different story was told. "No, of course not." I said, completing his thoughts.

He chuckled, and patted my shoulder, making me feel younger again. "So why would you do that?" he was still laughing.

"I just wanted to see what the big deal is."

It was his turn to give his snort of disbelief, and I lowered my head in mock shame. "And _you_ were always this hotshot with the ladies?" I asked to bring him down to earth.

"If you really wanted to, you could've just asked me." He said, gesturing to himself, and completely ignoring my question. I shall assume he was once a loser.

"You're a couple pounds on the plus side, but definitely bangable." I assured him, patting his protruding stomach amicably. "Besides, Gavin's beat you to the punch line. But I'm _going_ to have the last say in who..." I waved my hand for the evident continuation.

"Right, right. Well, if you ever need any help in that department, just remember: every other Saturday is open for you."

I laughed, "You're fucking disgusting."

"As well as every other night." He laughed it off too, even though we both knew he wasn't kidding. But I realized that this was the first time we've ever had a conversation alone in a while. Perhaps I'd better make the best of it.

"So what's your story?" I asked him. I remembered listening to him when he first started on Radio Rock, and he wasn't a disappointment.

"I'm not that interesting, trust me." I could tell though, that he was only egging me on.

"I'm sure. Just tell me!" I said, leaning into the crook of his arm.

"Okay, okay, if you insist." He started off comically by looking mystifyingly into some distance, "It all started when I was a kid, growing up in the states. You know back then I had an actual name. It was—"

"Well, well. Not a bad upkeep on your part Count." Gavin said loudly from the doorway, cutting off Count's surprisingly interesting backstory.

"What now?" I asked back, equally as loud, feeling a little stronger under the wing—however flabby—of the Count.

"Just remember what the you-know-what entails." He said while gallivanting away. I stood to follow him and question him, but he'd make some fuss about it. Besides, the Count was right on my doorstep, and a lot less… Gavin-ey. However, Gavin was being rather nice as of late. So I whipped around the face him, just as he was about to make a break for it. I pushed him back down with my toes, and crossed my arms. Sit-ups weren't his forte.

"God, I really gotta start working out." He muttered.

I started, "So."

"So." He said back, looking anywhere but me.

"Count."

"Meryl."

"What was that that Kavanagh brought up?" I asked sweetly. "Hmm?"

"Bet? What bet?" He questioned mischievously.

I sat on the arm of the couch, and said: "I know it has absolutely everything to do with me."

"Maybe." He leaned back, opening himself up.

"Just fucking tell me." I demanded.

He flinched, "Potty mouth." He sighed though, and continued, "Telling you would ruin the fun."

"Fine, just as long as it has nothing to do with sex, I'm over it." I said casually, but halted short, when I saw some guilty smile on his face. I smacked his arm.

"What?" He exclaimed, and retreated further into the couch.

"I wouldn't do it to you." I said, finally backing off, and turning. I looked back over my shoulder, and he looked put out.

"Look at me!" He said with a laugh. "I ain't no Mick Jagger." I winced at the mention of that name, but continued.

"You don't give yourself enough credit." I said, dropping back down to sit next to him. "I mean you do manage to keep yourself _busy_ every other weekend."

He chuckled, letting me sweet-talk him.

"And I have been thinking… it would be nice to be with someone with experience." I said. He wasn't looking at me, but I could see his eyes bug out a bit. "The others wouldn't mind, would they?" I leaned into his shoulder, and I could feel goose bumps raise on his upper arm. After all, when was the last time _he's_ ever been romanced by someone my age?

"Well, they always wanted to know who the heck you were interested in." He said.

"I was never very sure."

He paused.

"But, there is something I need from you." I said making sure to ooze sexuality, and his eyebrows raised higher, "My first word of the week." I snapped upwards, bolting for the door, while he groaned in defeat.

"Tease!" He shouted as I stuck my tongue out on my way back to my room.

I sniggered silently, happy for the relief of tension. The boys and I were on equal playing grounds, because I had all the power, it seemed. And hey, I probably wouldn't sleep with any of them, but it was oh so satisfying to see them squirm. Serves the idiots right. Two sides can play their stupid game.

Much later, I was on my way to my next show with Gavin, eager to start, and for my regular banter with him. He was already set, telling me to hurry, as Dave had already finished up, only his last song remaining. I slid into my swivel chair seamlessly, and winked at Gavin.

"Busy today, aren't we?" He asked harmlessly. I was all ready to play dumb, since I figured Count was too proud to admit that he gave their fun away, at least not yet.

"Hmm?" I asked, with just the right amount of innocence.

"You were all over him." He muttered.

"What I do with my body is absolutely none of your business. Do we need to have this discussion again?"

"Perhaps. As I recall, you seemed to enjoy our last _discussion_." I faintly saw the red on air light flicker on.

_Damn. That was a good one._ "Alright, but jeez Gav, no one says anything about _your_ taste in women."

"Uh, Meryl, we're live."

I paused, but then smirked at Gavin. It had been on long enough to hear me insult him, thank god. Maybe my sister was somehow listening, and took hint to the jab.

"Well played." He said good-naturedly. He's in a rather upbeat mood today.

"I try. Anyways, audience you are back to _the_ best show on air," I glanced up and winked at Dave, "and we've got a pretty good show lined up, especially since you sent in your polls, we'll be discussing the top ten things you hate in a partner."

"Yes, and I think you'll find out which ones Meryl is guilty of." Gavin turned on the tunes, and we had a good-hearted laugh. Though, I couldn't help but feel wary.

It had been getting better between us, and if he hadn't been apart of that stupid bet thing, I'd say we were close to being friends. But I can't say I'm surprised at his participation. The record was mid-play, and we were in the midst of getting Harold to set up our playlist, and when he returned with a few more selections, he slipped a paper onto my desk.

I looked at the small inoffensive paper slip. So, finally, I was in on the joke. Dave said earlier that the words were supposed to be easy this early in the week, so I was prepared.

I opened it up, and in his messy scrawl was written: _whore._ I sniggered. If this is some sort of message, then it's not very good.

"Well, easy enough." I stated. Gavin looked over in interest, and I showed him, and he wrinkled his nose.

"Rather interesting as a first." He nodded, but smirked.

Carefully, we ran down the chosen topic for our show.

"And one of the last things to hate in a partner… Drumroll." Gavin said. Harold had come in with his little snare.

I pulled a paper out of the hat we had arranged, and read it. "Immaturity. Good pick, dear listeners, and what a ghastly trait it is to have. This could very well be something your sweet someone could be doing. Do you find them shouting at you for nonsensical reasons? Or, maybe they are a bit too interested in the childrens' books lying around, like the classic Dr. Suess book, Hor…ton Hears A Who. If this is the case, a short goodbye is in order, unless you plan on babying him until you're both eighty."

I cringed at the execution perhaps being a tad too direct, but I got Simon to spit his tea back into his cup, so I must have done something right.

I smirked, when I saw Count next after my show, letting him know I was game for anything.

"That was too easy." He muttered, but nonetheless patted my shoulder on the way by.

Close to supper, I was sitting in my room with Carl and Molly, laughing at Count's easy test.

"My word was easy, I can't wait for the end of the week. What a softy." I said.

"What was your word?" Justice asked.

"Whore." I said simply.

"Wait, wait, you had _whore_?" Molly asked while breaking into a fit of giggles.

"What?" I asked, still not done insulting Count in the most amicable way possible.

"Sorry to say, but you had it way worse. I just had to say _pickle_." She snorted, and nudged my arm.

"Good luck the rest of the week." Carl said, while biting into his shepherd's pie.

"Ah heck." I said in a hick accent. I also internally cursed myself for running my mouth. "Well, I won't give up without the last laugh."

"We never had the impression you would." Carl said, patting my shoulder. Carl was an interesting subject lately. He seemed to be nice to me, even now. But I could see some sort of mistrust. It frustrated me to no end. But I guess I'd forget about it as long as he didn't start any weird conversations like all those weeks ago.

"Good." I said, eager for second helpings.

I went to the dining room-ish place and the only thing stopping me from getting me to the tray of food were four conniving boys; they could hardly be called men if you took into account their actions. I guess the same view could be used on me. Anyways, the moment I walked in, it was silent, and Dave, Mark, Gavin and Count rounded their heads to glance. Angus was sitting with them too, but in terms of this little bet they had going, he didn't seem to be in the running. Though of course why Dave would be there too is beyond me.

"Hello." I said slowly.

"Hey." Dave said, trying his best to appear seductive. I can't see why that Marianne girl would have done anything with him.

I cleared my throat, and slipped behind Gavin's chair, but he slid out, and his chair pinned my trailing leg.

I snorted. "Nice try." On _try_, I shoved his chair back easily enough, especially since he was rather thin.

They just sniggered. I shook my head and grabbed another plateful, when they poked at my appetite. "That's going straight to your hips, you know that." Dave said.

"And you're one to talk, Dave." I said, though I don't think he minded all that much.

"Ow." He pretended to be shot.

"_Please_," I said, while grinning at his antics. I gathered my food, and turned to leave, getting past Gavin again, this time he didn't try to stop me. When I reached the door, I turned around to face them and opened my mouth, but I didn't say anything for some reason. It suddenly bothered me that they were sitting together. I cleared my throat and left abruptly.

I mentally slapped myself for letting them get to me. I guess I'll soon make quick work of them and them that their tricks won't bother me.

Over and over that night, I chastised myself, criticizing every single detail I remember myself doing in the past few weeks. If I wasn't so damn slutty, this might not have happened. Or, pretend-slutty. This probably resulted from me fake-throwing my cat around and they were fed up.

Maybe I should just pick one of them, and be done with it. The chase won't be all that fun after, if I'm just like Molly or Justice. Then it will get back to competing for airtime.

After much debate, it was early enough to go see Bob, since it was clear I was not going to sleep a wink.

"Bob I have a problem."

"More so than usual?" He asked, adjusting his mike, and setting down his first few records.

"I guess you could say that. It's about sex."

He paused shortly before setting down his things, "And what have you to worry about that?"

"Do you live under a rock?" I asked, before remembering whom I was talking to. "Right, well more specifically a first time."

"Well, its not so bad, just stick it in and—"

"Bob, female here."

"Oh, right yes, well I suppose it's a bit different then," He said thoughtfully. I was glad he didn't seem too embarrassed about the subject, but from what he's said from back in his day, I didn't really expect that.

"I could give you a whole speech, about abstinence, and some fifties' values crap, but what would that do? Look at you. The most I can say is that you got to make sure it's with someone you tolerate." His voice rose at the end, in a way he probably didn't realize, but it made my stomach feel weird. I didn't really love anyone here, and I was looking for sex. I mean, some people were barely tolerable, but I didn't actually love them.

But I can't help but wonder how much more different this conversation would have gone if I were a boy. The thought made me chuckle uneasily. Well, I can't see Mark's father telling him to hold back. Hell, I'm slightly impressed by him, if I'm in a good mood, and I forget that I almost got it on with him.

"I didn't peg you as someone who would say that, no offence." I managed.

"None taken." He hummed to himself, and went back to selecting him music.

Once again, I woke early in the morning, finding myself alone after dozing during Bob's show. He had gotten used to leaving a lot, and me, leaving. I was lazily rising from my comfortable couch, when Simon came in. He didn't see me right away, and gave a jump when I said "Hi."

"Oh, hello." His voice was cheery, yet relieved; I could tell he had had his morning cup of tea.

"Where's Bob?" He asked.

I sat up. "Well, he's probably left already, it must be the last song." I tried to fix my hopeless hair so I would at least look presentable, but gave up as usual. "It's a long one," As it usually is. Bob sometimes likes to leave enough time for Simon to come down. I was a bit sceptical, since Simon knew this. Well, I couldn't blame him for attempting to make conversation. I was never usually here long enough to meet up with Simon a whole lot.

It got quiet again, while Simon got ready for his set, but he spoke again. "It's Christmas soon."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm pretty excited about that." I stood to stretch.

"Are ya going ashore?" He asked nonchalant.

I hesitated. I hadn't exactly tried to make plans. "I dunno, I figure I'll try and fudge things up with Marlow and her _boyfriend_. To be honest, I'm surprised they've lasted."

"Yeah…" He smiled in concurrence, but I didn't expect that he fully followed my distress. Given the chance, every man on this ship would risk pushing my sister off of Big Ben to have a chance by Mick Jagger's side. I wouldn't blame them. It wouldn't hurt my opinion of them either.

"Well, it's been fun, but I'm off to bed."

"Oh, hold on, I'm supposed to give you this." A hand pulled me back by my wrist, but the meagre contact made me stop anyways. I flickered my gaze to his hand, but paid my best attention to his other hand, which held a white slip. Damn.

I took it and went to turn, but Simon had this half-expectant look on his face. I sighed, unfolded the small piece of paper, and read "Intercourse."

Well played.

* * *

><p><strong>Hopefully the next one comes quicker folks, sorry. and by quicker, i mean <em>slightly<em> less than last time. Well, in the meantime, youz could readz my chapters over, because its been so long you've most likely forgotten the happenings**


	12. Drink

**Okay so I'm very sorry for not being around. its been like a year. i wasn't sure i liked where this was headed before tbh. but i'm going to try and reign it in, if you're all still interested. i wrote a little bit longer of a chapter, and plan to write a bit outside of the canon plot for this film, and draw it into Meryl's own story, but don't worry, i will keep it as true as possible, and i don't ever mean to eliminate our favourite pirates. the updates might be slow, but if people are enthusiastic about it, it might be easier to stay ****motivated. anyways,**

**cheers, and remember to review :)**

* * *

><p>Chapter 12: Drink<p>

"Christ, you'd think with all these note jabs they're trying to put me in the mood," I said as I tossed aside yet another conquered word of the day. This word was penetration, which was surprisingly easier than the day before's condom.

We were currently occupying the lounge couches, Justice, Molly, and I, legs piled on over each other. Molly was picking at her nails nonchalant and Justice was almost dozing off.

I knew it was a tired subject as of late. Someone wanted to poke fun at a Pop Wave, and I being the noticeably less experienced was an easy target.

"Meh," Molly said, clipping here and there.

"Maybe I should just do it." I grumbled and tossed my head back with force. The other's weren't fazed. "Where is everyone?"

"On deck, it's almost nice out, for winter." Molly sighed.

It was quiet a long while longer, while I wondered if they had heard what I said. "I said maybe I should just do it."

"What?" Molly replied.

"You know, the thing in bed."

Justice snorted, proving she was actually awake.

"Shut up," I quipped.

"If you make a big deal out of it, so are they." She pointed out.

"I'm not making a big-"

Justice, without opening her eyes said, "Yes, you certainly are. Think about it. Why do they target you? Because you make a great fuss. You're also easy on the eyes, but they also gain a reaction out of you."

"She's right, Meryl," Molly began, "If you just let it be, and were not too concerned with _it_, then maybe they will get over it."

I didn't want to admit it but this reinforced my idea that I should just do it, but I had hoped with someone I loved. But I looked at whom I was sitting with. By now, Molly and Justice were seasoned veterans, in terms of the mentality of being free to make love.

"Fine."

"Fine what?" Molly prodded.

"You're both right but maybe I still do want it."

"Want what?" Justice teased.

"A shag," I grumbled.

"A what?" Justice cupped her hand around her ear.

"Shag."

"Hmm?"

"Dammit woman, open your ears, I said I wanted a shag." At a precisely excellent moment, the door had swung open to an unsuspecting Angus, holding his toast. His eyes were wide and he quickly stalked across the carpet towards the deck to be out of our midst.

"Do you suppose he'll tell…" Molly wondered.

"Oh fuck," I said and tossed the girls' legs off me and tried to follow him up, "No, wait Angus, don't!" But the top door was shut before I reached the steps.

"That just might make things easier for you."

"Oh, might it? Bring it on then, I might as well just wait in my room for them all the drop by."

"Listen, babe, if it were me, just pick the one that pisses you off the least. If it comes up later, at least you can say it was the cream of this rotting crop. Or you could jack off, it's less complicated." Molly said with her general ease. "And if it makes you feel better, not a word will be said to the rest of our crew as much as we can help it."

"Alright, that is some good information." I said falsely bright, still preoccupied with what had just happened. I wasn't so much worried about the telling now, it was just the hopeful look that Angus almost had that I wanted to snuff. "Today's Friday, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, why?" Molly confirmed.

"And it's not the second weekend?"

"So the person of your choosing will probably be at full swing horniness right now, just like you, aching for the next weekend. Just so that mental image is in your head. It could be anyone, even Bob. Sounds like they weren't calling him Smooth Bob for nothing back in the day." Molly winked.

"Okay, gross." I said, and Justice groaned in agreement.

"Are you a fan of hair?" Molly asked.

I quirked my brow.

"I'm only asking, because I'm wondering who shaves down there. Mark for sure."

"Um, okay, I think it'll be of little consequence when it comes down to it." And really I didn't need the mental image of every member with or without bush.

"Carl?" Justice asked. "He hasn't been a total ass according to your rapport recently."

"We'll see." I was actually considerate of that option.

"Simon? He'd like that post-marriage." Molly said thoughtfully.

"Yes, but that's post-marriage. We don't want his tears soaking the bedsheets." Justice stated.

"Well I could always go ashore and say I did it, and then come back and they'd leave me alone."

"Yes, but then you'd have to have done it." Molly said with a drop of her shoulders.

"Why?" I asked indignantly.

"Because everyone will know right away if you haven't." Molly shrugged.

I would have argued but even I knew the face, and overall demeanour of someone who had done the deed. I knew I was calm, but had no dice on someone like Mark. The glow was easier to see on young people, since upon inspection you had no idea on someone such as the Count could get anyone, the glow barely visible through his scruff. Maybe it was his vulgarity.

The girls were about to run off a couple more options when the door creaked and I bid a quick farewell and the chilly boys filed in shortly, not catching sight of the woman they were previously chatting about.

That night, before my set, I napped, more deeply than usual.

It was one of those sleeps where the dreams came easily in no time at all.

A couple knocks at my door woke me suddenly.

I stretched and grumbled, "Wot?"

"You're on in five."

"Mmkay." I called. I almost slipped back into blissful sleep, but I got my wits about my dream.

Weirdly, it was about Simon.

I was wide awake now, struggling to retell the dream over in my mind.

It was about that poor fellow becoming this flirtatious man's man. In the dream he was hitting on me, and I'm afraid that I liked it. A damn lot.

He was adorable, in a dopey kind of way in real life, but I massaged my temples in an exasperated fashion, because it could never be. Even after that adorable kiss. "I'm too damn horny for this ship." I told myself. Only a fool would add insult to injury; he'd already lost one woman, and though the man had said all was good, I suspected otherwise, that instead it was a pride issue.

I looked down at myself, a crap t-shirt that was too tight, and a pair of hole-y jeans. I felt a wreck.

I knew it was high time that I pulled my shit together, but every time I tried, my "dumb" feelings got in the way.

I changed into something less showy, before another knock at the door.

"Meryl!" Molly said behind the door. "You're almost on!"

"I'm up, I'm up!" I said, barely doing up the last button before pulling open the door.

"You look—"

"I know!" I said, dashing to the recording studios.

I pulled my hair into a bun before crashing into my station.

"And you're live with Meryl and her oh so incapable co-host, mister Gavin Kavanagh." I winded myself, before the other DJ could open his mouth.

"Ah, yes, here we are folks, in the hands of a woman who can scarcely make it out of bed to greet the loyal fans. What do you say to that, aye?"

I caught my breath as he spoke to the audience, to my discredit. "I say, I can admit to needing every ounce of beauty sleep I can get, lest I look like a threadbare, aging oaf—oh, wait. Sorry." I winked to keep it lighthearted, for he had fared harsher words before.

"Might as well have cut out my heart, deary, I'm sure the thousands of letters from the fans directed to me have everything to do with my age."

"Like fine wine, Kavanagh."

"With that said, welcome to our show, and settle in with your favourite pair, bringing you only your carnal desires to reality. Don't let your mother know we're here, bringing you the very best in music."

"This first pick is sent in by Julie in the heart of London, dedicating it to her college sweetheart. Ah young love."

The track played, 'Gimme Some Lovin' already set out for me.

"What happened to you?" Gavin asked, looking me over.

"What, what's wrong with me?" I looked down at myself, unable to pinpoint anything.

"You're never that close. Had to get Harold to grab your list."

"Thank you Harold!" I waved at him, smiling apologetically. I usually liked to pick my tracks, but he was dearly appreciated.

"No worries," he replied, sitting comfortably on the couch.

"You're flustered." Gavin said, knowingly.

"I've just ran here."

"Molly said you were napping. You're slipping."

"A momentary lapse. Hardly a bother." I said as confidently as possible, but didn't like that I couldn't see his eyes, once again. Hard to tell what he was thinking.

"I know what it is!" He exclaimed, "You're not wearing shades."

"And?" I demanded.

"You know what? I heard a funny thing this afternoon, before I was done outside Angus gave the lads a little chat." Her heart dropped. He changed that subject quickly. "And right now I can read you like a book."

I fumbled with the drawers, keeping eye contact, while I searched the contents by feel. "And what do you read?"

"You just might get more flustered."

I dropped what I was looking for in the open drawer to the floor and snapped down to get it, hitting my head off the edge of the damn thing. "Bugger!" My hand wrapped around the shades I was looking for and I unfolded them, putting them on, and ignored the searing pain on my forehead blankly.

Gavin's eyebrow lifted in an amused fashion and I wanted to dearly to comfort the bruising.

"Whatever you may have heard, I assure you—"

"Are most definitely _not_ true, or you would be going against your own words."

I kept my face straight, wary of the song's ending. "Would someone grab me a drink."

Only Harold was around so he ran off, nice enough. He returned, and handed me the nice cold beverage and while Gavin was busying himself with shining his boot, I pressed the cold can to my forehead.

"Meryl."

"Ya, Gavin," I snipped, and rounded back at him, putting down the can as quickly as possible.

"Fix your blouse."

I had overlooked two buttons, showing the tops of the cups, and the ones that were done up were mismatched. So much for "less showy"

"I don't care." I said quickly. For some idiotic measure, I let loose the top button, and the flannel bared shoulder and cleavage, but still kept a clean face.

He seemed impressed, and swivelled away to grab his next track.

* * *

><p>I had a couple beers, and through the steady process of becoming drunker, I gained a small dubious audience.<p>

The usually controlled Meryl, gabbing away, more carefree in a less composed sort of carefree.

Dubiousness instead turned to amusement, for drunk I was apparently proving hilarious, speaking out of turn, cutting off Gavin. More than usual.

But the bite was gone, I suppose I played along more, and laughed genuinely, whenever the cuts were redirected to me. His insults were equally as harmless.

Harold sat with Molly and Dave, whom all clapped when the curtain called.

"You're quite a bit flirtatious, whats in your drink?" Gavin remarked.

"Hmm?" I murmured, stacking my records in a dangerously uneven tower, unsuccessful in appearing focused while drunk. I was just trying to help out old Harold.

"Let's stop that," Harold murmured, and swooped by to cart them away.

"Just a beer. And I found your whiskey in the bottom drawer."

"Whiskey, I'll remember that." Dave winked.

"Hmhm, I'll be careful around you, big guy." I giggled sleepily.

The show was over, and Molly dragged Dave out of sight, by his collar. Harold took the records to the room over and I was alone with the smoking Gavin.

I came out of my cell and tripped up on the carpet, but was able to steady myself.

I wanted to do up the buttons to the top, figuring the fun in that was over, but struggled with simply one. The bloody thing kept slipping out of my fingers.

"Blast." I grumbled. But a terrible idea struck me. So terrible that in this state I just... had to. "Gavin come here." I hailed.

The man came round his door and took off his glasses.

"M'lady?"

"I need help. The, er, the things on my shirt. The round thingies, they need doing." I guided his hands to my chest carelessly, that he had to pull back a little before—I slackened my grip.

Gavin carefully grasped the edge of the fabric and the buttons, taking his time with each one. He focused on not meeting my gaze, and pursed his lips.

I stood as still as a drunk could, staring dazedly at his scruff, and steadied my breathing.

"You've been christened." He said suddenly.

"How do you mean?" I said, looking down at his handiwork.

"It's an honour to have seen you blazing drunk on the air. You're not a total fool, as others before you."

"Well that's a relief." I smiled.

"Did that bump hurt?" He finished the very top button up by my neck, but still held the collar tips.

"It's fine." I looked up, and he was looking right back down at me. I couldn't pretend that gooseflesh had not just spread up my back.

"Is it?" His thumb gently touched the small bump before the hairline.

"You…" I breathed, and tilted my chin upwards. The rest of my sentence faded.

He cleared his throat. "You're clearly drunk, and you'd better run back to your little birds."

I considered him, inebriated albeit, and warmly nodded. I patted his chest good-heartedly and then flitted back to my cabin, thinking unchaste thoughts about the kind man who had buttoned the little round thingies on my shirt.

* * *

><p>The splitting headache the next morning was enormous. I had not even had much, as far as I could recall.<p>

I was still in her clothes from the day before, but it was a miracle vomit wasn't all over the floor, judging by the current pains.

I changed into fresh clothes, blunder free, and made my way to the kitchen for some hangover relief.

Simon was up as usual, his tea cup nestled in his lap as he read a week old paper.

"Mornin'," I greeted.

He looked at me pointedly.

I ignored it. "What's in the kettle?"

"Earl Gray."

I poured a cup as I watched him stare at the page. In one spot.

"Kavanagh?" the man asked incredulously, sensing me looking at him.

"What about him?" I fixed my tea slowly.

"Maybe you shouldn't be roaring before you get on the mic."

"If this is about my drinking," I stalked around the table for a seat opposite to Simon, "which I suspect it is not, I will say this: you can not tell me what to do. That is the whole point of us girls being here. The nation told us no, and then a boat full of boys told us no by _sinking_ our ship, we're not about to let either of them get in the way again, and you think you can pressure me into being a sweet little girl? So if you can't handle a girl with her whiskey, row yourself back to shore." I was not truly upset with him, but if I was going to remind someone that I was in charge, it was going to be my friends first, so they knew my boundaries. People like Gavin had no boundaries.

"I'm just worried he'll hurt you like—"

"Nothing I can't handle, Simon."

"Handled as well as you drink?"

"I at least trust you all enough to be drunk around you."

"Just remember… you don't have to be drunk. For people to care about ya." He said calmly.

"You've been talking to Carl?" I asked amusedly, recalling a similar conversation.

A boyish frown fixed on his face and he downed the rest of his tea. "Simon Swafford has a show to prepare." He grumbled.

"Isn't it tomorrow?" I teased.

Simon stalked away, knowing by now preaching was a lost cause. And it was indeed only Friday.

I almost felt bad, sending him away feeling exasperated, but things had to be said. And though he was a nice guy, this sort of thing was overbearing.

Carl walked in the room and greeted Simon, but the latter man just walked straight.

The young man shrugged, and sat next to me.

"_You_ were very… affectionate last night." Carl started.

"I've barely had my tea."

"Relax Carl, the lady did well. If you ask me, it's better than the farting special Angus did last summer when _he_ was drunk." Dave defended, coming in right behind Carl.

"I resent every ounce of that day." Angus called out from the hall.

"What did I do?" I asked quietly to Carl.

"You should ask Gavin." Carl said with good humour.

"You can shut your mouth." I snipped.

"Or ask the listeners who tuned in for that fun fest." He continued.

"Kill me now or this headache'll do the work."

"At least we know what will do the trick." Dave taunted.

"My public humiliation and probable future infamy as a drunk?"

"Whiskey." A just-arrived Count said, plopping a new bottle in front of her.

"Great. Just give me a break until I'm two minutes sober. Then I'll have another drink." I laid my head on the nice cool table, eager to have some peace and rest the bruise near my temple. "What is the damage, Count?"

"I think she said something about Gavin's golden locks." The Count threw back imaginary waves of hair, speaking like I wasn't there.

"Or his chiseled jaw." Dave agreed. "If the whole of the UK isn't jealous by now, you might as well shag him on air."

"That would be something." I understated.

"_If_ the whole UK wanted him." Count chastised.

"I already told you mate, I'm not gonna fuck you." I said all the white still face down, muffled a little.

"No you didn't!" He feigned desperation.

I semi-lifted my head, "Well I just did."

"Alas maiden fairest, it wasn't meant to be. I got some chicks coming over next weekend."

"Ah, so romantic." I supplied.

"The smoothest."

"Maiden fairest?" Carl teased.

"Don't you forget it, you skinny oaf." I kicked his leg under the table.

"Ow. Alright."

* * *

><p>Later that day, the hangover mostly subsided, I tried to take it easy above deck, and stare at the sky, the only thing that was still and at least grey.<p>

I occupied the only other lawn chair next to Mark, who looked as if he was sleeping.

When I sat, I saw him raise an eyebrow, ever so slightly.

"Oh, hey, it's cool if I sit here, right?"

He didn't say anything so I just laid back. It was cold, though milder than usual. In my jumper and wooly socks, it was a perfect enough temperature to calm my nerves.

"No hard feelings, about that stand up, aye?" I asked, but felt that was incomplete. "It's not you, really mate. I got my own stuff to deal with. I mean it's definitely not you, you're gorgeous. Let's just get that clear. I just need something more I think, to prompt any… well you know."

I tensed, just babbling, and thought it was my own doing, but this was it. This was all him, his aura, and his leather trousers, just beckoning me to his room, even if I was confessing I didn't want him.

My eyes shut but at least the nausea was mostly gone. Mostly turned into embarrassment that I had just given a speech to a man I definitely had zero opposition to shagging.

I blew out a breath and got up and left, figuring if I were in his presence any longer I might as well tuck myself in his bed and wait. "Good chat, mate." I said, and went back inside.

"Anytime." He replied. I hesitated at the steps, where he couldn't see me, but I couldn't help but notice the double entendre. What a mysterious man.

* * *

><p>It being close to Christmas, only weeks away, Quentin approached me.<p>

"You seem to have gotten a bit of mail."

"I thought I told 'em to shove it on my bunk." I said, but grabbed it from him anyways. "Who's it from?" I read it so he didn't answer. "My bloody mother."

Quentin started away, but glanced over his shoulder.

"Not planning an unexpected vacation, are you?" He asked.

"No, why?"

"I say go for it. Think of the charts." He flitted away before I could turn it over and see the broken seal. Whoever but my mother uses seals anymore?

"That's illegal!" I called out.

"We're all illegal." He stated calmly, turning a corner.

I giggled at his antics, and opened the letter.

My mother pleaded me to come to shore. I felt a frown slip over my face. This was about how important it was to my dearest sister Marlow, and the budding relationship with Mick, and the utmost importance that he meet her family, which included me (probably to their dismay). She made no mention about the pleasure of my company, but I at least hoped it was underlying.

But at least it was not a total loss, I would get to meet a great man, and if I was around long enough, maybe the entire band.

The invitation included was not only a dinner, per se, but a party. An industry party. Which meant press. Pictures of myself and other important guests. Hell, I'm apart of the one of, if not _the_ biggest broadcasters playing them; this had to be good for Radio Rock.

I mulled that over for a moment, and folded the letter to sneak back to my room. Higher ratings for Radio Rock. This _would_ be good. Since it is clear that I draw attention, likened to the Count and Kavanagh.

But where did that leave me and my crew? I could just imagine Jackie, who was already hard working looking for supporters and funding for another station, fuming over this, seeing Quentin gaining the publicity.

Of course we're all equally sought out by the law, always trying to undermine our work, but there was still this matter that the partnership was only between our two stations because they sunk our ship.

No, I'd have to appear as a free agent. No station attached to my name.

But the only person who was second to Gavin Kavanagh at self-branding, in my books, was my sister Marlow. She'd definitely paid her dues climbing _that_ social ladder, and now everyone knew her name. The Fergusons. Marlow Ferguson. Meryl Ferguson. I think I'd quite enjoy being recognized before her. Not overshadowed.

This could work to Pop Wave's advantage.

But if Quentin knew it would draw more ratings, then how would he make me work with the Rolling Stones to get them?


End file.
